The Way Things Used to Be
by IngeniousIdea
Summary: Estella Bolger returns to Buckland and falls for her brother's friend, Merry Brandybuck. But will she have to choose between family and love? Wholesome hobbity cheer, one year post-Scouring, with (I hope) some humor thrown in!
1. A Journey of Memories

This is my very first fanfic attempt, so please give me feedback, even flames. Lots more chapters coming!  
  
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"Estella!" Fredegar howled. "The sun will set before we leave, at the rate you're moving!"  
  
"I would have left by now if I could find my green trunk," I yelled back, running into the front hall. "The one with the broken handle!"  
  
Fredegar was already in the doorway, looking a bit haggard. It was six in the morning, after all - much earlier than he was accustomed to waking.  
  
"It's already in the cart, Stella," he said. "Calm down."  
  
I blinked sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry."  
  
Fredegar heaved a sigh. "Then let's go."  
  
"Wait!" I held up a cautioning hand as I mentally ran through my list of things to load onto the cart. "All right. I think - we're ready."  
  
Fredegar turned and shambled out the door. "Then let's go!" he repeated.  
  
I slowly turned one more time, scanning the hall for some divine sign of something I had forgotten, and then jogged after my brother before he could start yelling again.  
  
I clambered onto the seat of the cart next to Fredegar and exhaled. "All right, all right. Let's go."  
  
"Finally," he muttered, and with a flip of the reins and a sharp "Get up!" the ponycart lurched forward.  
  
I let out a long groan. "I can't believe I'm actually going back."  
  
Fredegar grunted. "Is that good or bad?"  
  
"Well, good, I suppose. I haven't even visited Buckland since my tweens. It's not such a big thing for you, you've lived there -"  
  
He shuddered as if struck by a sudden chill. I leaped to put a comforting arm around his shoulders and went on hurriedly, " - not that you enjoyed it, of course, but before - when we were young - I was so sad to leave!"  
  
"You're not usually this giddy," Fredegar commented dryly, pretending he hadn't been bothered by even my passing reference to his last stay in Buckland.  
  
"I know!" I exclaimed, and to my profound embarrassment couldn't prevent a giggle from escaping me. "I can't wait!"  
  
My brother squirmed free of my arm and frowned at the pony, who was slowing. He slapped the reins against her back and muttered, "Well, hurry up and wait. We won't be crossing the Brandywine until late afternoon at the earliest."  
  
I sat back in silence for a moment, then snuck a sideways glance at him. "You look as if you're going to fall asleep sitting up."  
  
"Really? No!" Fredegar exclaimed brightly. "Not me! I adore rousing myself at unearthly hours! I find it positively invigorating!"  
  
"Give me the reins."  
  
"No! I need invigoration!"  
  
After a brief scuffle, Fredegar was snoring softly, sprawled across one of my trunks, and I was clucking to the mare to coax her into a trot.  
  
"Slug," I said, sticking my tongue out at the prostrate form behind me and grinning. Turning back around, I couldn't help murmuring a tune old Bilbo used to sing when I was a child:  
  
The road goes ever on and on,  
  
Down from the door where it began.  
  
Now far ahead the road has gone,  
  
And I must follow, if I can,  
  
Pursuing it with eager feet  
  
Until it joins some larger way,  
  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
  
And whither then? I cannot say.  
  
I fell silent then. Buckland. I hadn't been over the Brandywine for many long years - since I was barely a tween, far before Sharkey's time. Like my brother, I could not suppress a shudder at the thought. Tuckborough was far from Frogmorton, or even Hobbiton or Bywater, but no hamlet in the Shire was immune to Sharkey's poison, and we had all suffered. Especially poor Fred. If Meriadoc and Peregrin hadn't rescued him when they did, he might well have died.  
  
Which brought me to another stone in my shoe. Fred and I were moving back to Buckland - where the great Captains Peregrin and Meriadoc still lived. Fred had never fallen out of contact with them, but it had been so long since I had last seen them that I could hardly imagine calling them Pippin and Merry as I once had - much less my more commonly used Pipsqueak and Stupid. I laughed out loud at the thought - I used to hate my brother's supremely annoying partners in torment, but now they were heroes held in awe across the four farthings! But what should I say? How should I act? Would they even remember me? I half-wished they would not, for although they had teased me mercilessly, I had had no qualms about returning the favor. And by now they were probably big-headed with fame and too important to remember an old friend's baby sister.  
  
I frowned to myself. "Still Pipsqueak and Stupid, I'll bet," I grumbled, then spoke in a high, mocking imitation. "Look, Merry, it's Stella. Give us a kiss, lass. 'Twill be your first and last!"  
  
"Wha?" asked Fred rather blearily, sitting up.  
  
"Nothing," I replied hurriedly, then recovered and grinned impishly. "Just thinking out loud. I do know why you were so eager to move back east with me, though."  
  
"And why, pray tell, is that?" He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  
  
I gave him a playful shove. "Oh, come on, Fred. 'Tis plain as the nose on your face you're hopelessly smitten with Celandine Brandybuck."  
  
He jerked upright, fully awake. "Why you little - !" He grabbed for me; I ducked, whooped with joy, and slapped the reins against the pony's back with more vigor than I ever had in my life. She shot off like a rocket and Fred, caught unprepared, was thrown backwards into the trunks again.  
  
"Ha!" I cried triumphantly, standing on the seat as Fred struggled to disentangle himself. "The truth always prevails, Fred! Always!"  
  
My glee was abruptly cut short as the mare, left briefly to her own devices while I gloated, promptly managed to drag the cart into the ditch running along the side of the road. The cart lurched wildly; I lost my balance and leaped clear, landing with spectacular grace - backside first - in a large and rather convenient bush. The mare skidded to a halt, standing fetlock-deep in ditch water and regarding me with a puzzled look, as Fred painfully clambered down to the ground.  
  
"I really hope you learned a lesson from that," he said grimly.  
  
"Not to tell you the embarrassing truth?" I suggested brightly, then winced as a particularly sharp twig poked my leg.  
  
"Very good. Keep that in mind." He gave me a twisted smile. "Oh - and you do look as if you might need a hand. Good luck; there's not a soul on this road for leagues."  
  
"Fred!" I wailed, struggling wildly to escape the tangle of leaves, but to no avail. "Help me!"  
  
He gave me a sarcastic grin in response and turned to pull out our food basket, squinting toward to sun as he did so. "Looks like it's time for second breakfast," he commented meditatively.  
  
I made various pitiful noises as my brother unpacked a hearty meal and tucked in with enthusiasm - then moved on to my own packet. "Fred," I moaned. "Please."  
  
"I'm hungry, and you are conveniently indisposed."  
  
"You'll be Fatty again within the week, at the rate you're going," I grumbled.  
  
He glanced up then, and there was a curious vulnerability in his eyes. "Good," he said softly. "I'd rather go back to the way things used to be."  
  
I was immediately ashamed of myself for hurting him just to provoke a reaction. Fred had suffered more than anyone I knew during the brief dominion of the Boss. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," I said.  
  
"Maybe not," he replied. "It doesn't matter." He hoisted himself up and walked over to me. "Come on." I grabbed his hand and he pulled me to my feet.  
  
"Thank you. And I'm sorry," I repeated.  
  
Fred shrugged. I cursed myself inwardly as he turned and sat down again. He was still very thin for a hobbit, though his appetite was as avid as ever - his time in the Lockholes had damaged his health. I kneeled beside him.  
  
"Fred, are you all right?" To my surprise and alarm, silent tears were running down his cheeks. "Fred," I murmured. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, Stella," he sobbed suddenly. "I wish nothing had ever changed."  
  
I hugged him tightly. "So do I. So do all of us. But we've got to make do with what we have."  
  
We sat there without speaking for a few moments; then Fred sat back, wiping his eyes with the heel of his hand. He pushed himself up, exhaled a deep breath, and bent over to begin packing up the food basket. I joined him wordlessly. After the basket was tucked in the back of the cart again, I gave Fred another quick hug. "I'm really sorry," I whispered.  
  
He waved me off, climbing into the cart. "It's all right. Not your fault." I followed him up to the seat and he clucked to the mare; she strained momentarily to heave the wheels out of the small ditch, and then we were off once again.  
  
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I know! I know! I'm slow to get started. I'm very sorry. Yes, it will take me a couple of chapters before there is ANY mushy stuff heheheh.but just bear with me. In the meantime PLEASE review! Ü 


	2. Back in Buckland

Eeek! Quick chapter before the good stuff starts. BWHAHAHA!!  
  
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By the time the cart finally creaked to a halt in front of my uncle Ferdinand's home in Bucklebury, all three of us (Fred and I and the mare) were exhausted and ready for an early bedtime. Unfortunately, only the mare would get it. The rest of the evening passed mostly as a blur of various faces, voices, and inane conversation. Fred seemed willing to do the talking, so I merely sat with a glazed look on my face and spoke only when asked a direct question. When I finally was showed to my guest room, I immediately flopped down on the bed and fell asleep without even taking off my shoes.  
  
The next morning I woke refreshed and in a much better mood - I was fully conscious. I changed into a clean dress from one of my trunks and freshened up before cautiously venturing out to the dining room, where a plentiful spread was laid out.  
  
A few scattered relatives were gathered in groups along the length of the enormous table, which had been built intended for at least the four, and probably more, families that would be living in the house at a time. The amount of inhabitants was constantly changing, but my uncle Ferdinand was always there, and he held absolute authority. Under his supervision, the house was usually busy and bustling, but never chaotic.  
  
I had barely had time to sit down before I was suddenly pounced on from behind. When my heartbeat had subsided enough for me to hear again, I gasped, "What was *that* for?"  
  
A giggle answered, and a grinning lass plopped herself down in the chair next to me. "Oh, come on, Stella," she exclaimed. "You may have managed to avoid me last night, but you can't escape me that long." She helped herself to a piece of toast and regarded me innocently as she munched it.  
  
I laid my head on the table. "Tulip," I moaned, "don't do that."  
  
She laughed again. "Of course, Stella, whatever you say. But I don't think you've had time to unpack yet," she commented with a sudden and rather enigmatic change of subject. "And you'd better take your dresses out so you can iron them. You won't want a wrinkled one for tonight!"  
  
My head snapped up and I asked hurriedly, "Tonight? What's tonight?"  
  
"The cotillion!" Tulip stared at me, wide-eyed. "You mean no one told you last night?"  
  
I tried to recall any details from the previous evening and failed miserably. "Someone probably did," I admitted with a wry smile, "but I swear I cannot remember a thing that anyone said."  
  
"You did seem a bit, ah, bemused."  
  
I nodded and reached for the teapot and a cup. "So. A cotillion tonight?"  
  
"Yes," Tulip answered, handing me the cream pitcher. "And a large one at that. Most of Bucklebury will be there. And there is no way of squirming out of it, Stel. None."  
  
"Why must you torture me?" I wailed in mock despair. "I would so much rather be washing dishes back here! Oh - sugar." Tulip obliged.  
  
"I know you would," she sighed. "But sacrifices must be made. You must be reintroduced to Bucklebury after so many years away."  
  
This time I really did moan. "Please, no."  
  
Tulip pursed her lips disapprovingly. "At least our old friends."  
  
"Fine. But you are not going to spend all night dragging me to everyone whose name you know."  
  
"Fair enough," she agreed, with a slight twinkle in her eye.  
  
I nodded, satisfied. "Now let me eat!" I cried. "I'm famished!" And I was, not having had much of an appetite the previous night and therefore having eaten little.  
  
Tulip held up her hands in surrender. "Of course. Just warning you."  
  
"Thank you. Now shut up and let me drink my tea. I'm not quite awake yet."  
  
She disappeared to the hallway, and after finishing my cup, I was in a sociable mood and ready to catch up on any and all gossip Tulip had to tell me. I was heading for the kitchen to drop off my used cup when a vaguely familiar voice stopped me in my tracks.  
  
"Look who's finally come running back home. Somehow I missed your triumphant entrance last night; what a shame."  
  
I turned slowly to see a black-haired lass holding a pitcher of coffee. "Garnet," I returned coolly. "Ever so pleased to see you again."  
  
"Likewise. Pray tell, whatever chased you back here to your uncle's generosity?" She arched an eyebrow with the air of contempt that she had been born with and over the years perfected.  
  
I flushed. I was about to retort angrily but realized in time that it would only encourage her. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Cousin," I replied. "I received a message that certain young lasses were becoming more impudent than they were worth, and that any polite ones would be welcomed as role models."  
  
"Well, that seems to rule you out, doesn't it?" returned Garnet. "Besides, I'll be gone before long anyway."  
  
I couldn't resist. "He's finally worked up the courage to throw you out?"  
  
"No," she shot back, momentarily losing her air of indifference. "I'm marrying Mosco Burrows the week after next."  
  
"Excuse me while I disguise my smirk," I said, holding up a hand. I turned around and brought my facial muscles back under control, facing Garnet again when I was expressionless. "Go on."  
  
She glared at me. "Smirk all you like, Stella," she fumed, emphasizing 'smirk.' "Marriage isn't something you'll ever have to concern yourself with anyway. You just go on living off your uncle for as long as you like." She whirled and stalked out of the room, leaving me for once at a loss for words.  
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Okay. Next up - the cotillion, and I SWEAR Merry comes into the picture! I just need a setup. Sheesh. 


	3. Old Friends

I HATE not having free time! I finally was able to get this up. Hope you enjoy!  
  
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I knocked on the door of Tulip's room, shifting uneasily from foot to foot until it opened. Tulip stared at me as she beckoned me in.  
  
"You look..disheveled," she commented lightly.  
  
Shooting her a cold look, I shot back, "Really? How could you tell?"  
  
She laughed and closed the door. "Got roped into washing dishes for the old grannies, did we?"  
  
I collapsed across her bed and moaned in reply.  
  
"Get off my nice clean bed!" Tulip yelped, nearly dislocating my arm when she hauled me up. "You're covered in suds and grease - no! Don't wipe it on me!"  
  
"Quit your shrieking. You're such a baby," I sneered. Grimacing in disgust, Tulip gingerly wiped her hand on one of the few clean patches of my sleeve.  
  
"What are you doing here, anyway?" she questioned. "Why aren't you getting ready? Supper's being served in an hour and a half down at the hall."  
  
I sighed. "I know. I have a slight problem."  
  
"What's that?" Tulip quirked an eyebrow.  
  
I squirmed awkwardly. "I don't have a dress."  
  
"You don't have a dress?" Tulip repeated incredulously, a hint of panic in her voice.  
  
"Well, I do," I amended hurriedly, "but not a nice one. They're all old and a bit worn. I was planning on having a little more time to get a new one. I suppose I could just wear one I brought."  
  
"Absolutely not," Tulip cut in. "Somewhere in this monstrosity of a house there must be a pretty dress for you. Wait here." Before I could stop her or even speak, she was out the door.  
  
I sank back down on the bed. It was best to humor Tulip, anyway. And if she, by some miracle, actually found a dress I could wear, I was not going to turn it down.  
  
To my surprise, Tulip returned within a few minutes, breathless and grinning. "Good news!" she squealed. "I asked Aunt Pearl if there was a suitable dress for you - I explained it all - and she said she knew just the one. And best of all, it's Garnet's!"  
  
I stared at her blankly for a moment, then realized that she was serious. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth as I said, "When she sees me - in her own dress, and probably an expensive one at that, knowing her - she will be so mad she won't be able to see straight!"  
  
Tulip giggled with more than a hint of mischief. "Oh, I know! I can't wait to see her face!"  
  
I sobered suddenly, remembering my earlier conversation with Garnet. "Tulip - is it true that she's getting married?"  
  
"Unfortunately, yes," Tulip replied, rolling her eyes. "Within the next few weeks, I think. I'm relieved to see her go, but I feel sorry for poor Mosco. He's a decent fellow, I suppose, but not as bright as some; and he thinks he's got himself quite a nice catch."  
  
I shook my head. "He's in for a rude awakening."  
  
"I don't know," replied Tulip. She cocked her head to one side and went on, "They really do seem happy around each other, even Garnet. I know it sounds crazy, but maybe they bring out the best in one another. Stranger things have happened in the name of love."  
  
I regarded her skeptically. Tulip caught my look and laughed. "Who knows? Maybe, if the right lad comes along, even you, Estella Bolger, might find yourself acting sentimentally."  
  
I could not help snorting in disbelief, but I managed to reply, "Right, Tulip. Come on; you know I'm not a romantic by anyone's reckoning."  
  
"I know, I know," she returned lightly. "But still, you never know. That's all I'm saying."  
  
I was about to throw a pillow at her when Aunt Pearl appeared in the doorway. "I heard that a certain young lady was in desperate need of a dress tonight," she announced, eyes twinkling, and held out a cascade of flowing blue fabric. I gasped in delight and shock, leaping to finger the material, and then realized that I was still covered in various reminders of my hours spent washing dishes.  
  
"I need to wash up," I began. "I can't - "  
  
"I understand," Aunt Pearl interrupted. "Take this with you." She held out the dress; I took it gingerly.  
  
"Thank you so much," I said fervently.  
  
Aunt Pearl smiled. "Any time, dear."  
  
I flashed a broad grin and took off for my room.  
  
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"Here we are, Stella," sand Tulip with more glee than was strictly necessary.  
  
"You don't have to yell," I hissed. "I don't need an announcement. I feel like enough of a fool already."  
  
"Oh, hush." She grinned. "You look wonderful. Enjoy yourself."  
  
I gave her a dubious look, smoothed my skirt nervously, and stepped out of the cart. I felt more awkward than I had in a long time - I'd never been much for frills, and rarely attended cotillions; certainly not major social events such as this one. I loved the dress, a finely made skirt, bodice, and blouse ensemble, but aside from that, everything about me seemed out of place.  
  
However, it was too late to back out now. Tulip led the way through a pair of magnificent oak doors that had been flung open, light spilling out onto the darkening street. The hall itself was packed with hobbits of all ages, and the combined chatter was so loud I could barely hear myself think; I was relieved when Tulip pulled me through the crush to the lawn outside. A large pavilion had been set up, lit by hanging lanterns and the occasional firefly that wandered through. Hobbits were seated along several sizable tables, and Tulip and I quickly spotted our group, consisting of most of the current inhabitants of Uncle Ferdinand's house. We hurried over and managed to find two adjacent seats.  
  
"Where have you been?" teased Fred, across the table from me. "You obviously didn't spend all that time making yourself pretty."  
  
I stuck my tongue out at him but batted my eyelashes. "At least we can recognize pretty when it stares us in the face."  
  
Fred clapped a hand to his heart. "M'lady, you've deeply wounded me."  
  
"Forgive me for my utter lack of pity."  
  
"You can make it up to me by passing the rolls."  
  
I obliged, helping myself to one as well. There was little conversation from then on: the feast had been provided by a sort of potluck, and with so many families in attendance, there was no shortage of fare. We all tucked in with vigor; every so often lasses would pass by, setting down more serving trays and removing empty ones.  
  
When the pace had slowed slightly, I nudged Tulip. "All right. Who's here?" The tables were quickly filling as we ate, and although I recognized some of the faces, many were unfamiliar.  
  
Tulip craned her neck, scanning the surrounding tables. "You know everyone here, obviously." She indicated our own table. "Over there on the right - um, some various Tooks: Pearl, Peregrin...Diamond of Long Cleeve's with them. And some Brandybucks: Celandine, Meriadoc, Melilot..." She squinted in the other direction. "A few Burrowses - ah, there's old Mosco now. Where's Garnet, I wonder?"  
  
"Right here," Garnet purred. She'd appeared from nowhere, it seemed, and was leaning over my shoulder to set down a platter of meat and cheese. "Someone has to keep the tables supplied. Careful, Fatty," she chided as Fred reached for the serving fork. "There are several hundred other hobbits here who'd like to eat, too."  
  
Fred and I both flushed - Fred with embarrassment, I with anger. I could not resist giving Garnet's arm a vicious pinch as she withdrew; she shot me an icy glare but, to my surprise, did not retaliate. Turning back to Tulip, I attempted to strike up another conversation, but within a few moments Garnet was approaching again, this time with a large flagon of ale. She leaned over me as if to place it on the table, but suddenly she let out a very forced-sounding "Oh!" and the flagon slipped from her hands. It landed on my lap, having emptied all of its contents over me in the process.  
  
Dripping ale, I shrieked in shock and rage and sprang up. Lunging for Garnet, I succeeded in relieving her of a handful of her hair before she sent me reeling backwards with a slap. Most of the hobbits at my table had jumped up and surrounded Garnet and me, but curiously enough, no one seemed willing to interfere as we now circled each other warily.  
  
"You poisonous little rat," I hissed in a low but dangerous voice.  
  
"I'm the poisonous one?" Garnet forced a laugh. "I think not. It's not my fault you're jealous."  
  
"Jealous?" I retorted. "I'm afraid you're wrong there. I cannot for the life of me explain why Mosco agreed to marry you, though there is the possibility that you threatened him. In any case, I am exceedingly grateful to him for removing you from my sight!"  
  
Garnet leaped forward and with a clever sidestep managed to twist my arm up behind my back. "The feeling is mutual," she spat, her face a scant three inches from mine.  
  
I smiled sweetly in return and kicked her in the shin. Yelping, she staggered back, and I was raising my hand to slap her when my arm was seized from behind.  
  
"Fred!" I wailed, struggling wildly but not taking my eyes off of Garnet. "Let me go!"  
  
Mosco Burrows himself pushed through the circle of onlookers and hurried to Garnet's side. She gave me a final frosty glare before turning to leave with Mosco.  
  
I strained forward, but I was held fast. Jerking my arm wildly behind me, I tried to wrench it free. Instead, I felt the back of my hand connect with a face. I was instantly released, but I whirled in alarm, my hands to my mouth. "Fred!" I cried. "I'm so sorry - !" I broke off suddenly.  
  
Fred had not been the one holding my arm. Instead, a tall hobbit that I did not recognize held a hand to his swiftly reddening cheek.  
  
Scrambling to recover, I babbled, "Oh, I am so sorry, I had no idea - I mean, I thought you were my brother - I'm really sorry; please - "  
  
He held up a hand and, to my surprise, grinned: a genuine smile. "Perfectly understandable, under the circumstances." He wiggled his jaw experimentally. "No lasting damages seems to have been done, so..." he paused, and peered at me more closely. "Estella?"  
  
I blinked in surprise and nodded warily. Now that I came to think of it, he did look familiar, but I couldn't connect a name with his face.  
  
Fred finally appeared through the dissipating crowd in time to hear the stranger's last query, and he clapped him on the back with a jovial grin. "Dear sister," he exclaimed, "don't tell me you don't recognize my old friend Merry Brandybuck?"  
  
I did a mental double-take. "Master - Master Merry," I stammered, "I didn't realize - you're so tall!"  
  
Merry laughed. "A comment I've heard more times than I can count in the last year. Don't worry about it. Look at you," he added. "Last time we met you were barely in your tweens!"  
  
I shrugged, suddenly feeling less than conversational. I knew I was being rude, but I had a low tolerance for embarrassment, and a blush was already creeping across my face. To my relief, Fred flashed me a grin and a quick, "You don't mind, do you, Stella?" before steering Merry away. Merry gave a slight bow and turned to go.  
  
I slowly returned to my chair and sat down heavily.  
  
"Well," commented Tulip. "That was interesting. You certainly succeeded in drawing attention to yourself. Although I can't say you chose the best method."  
  
"Oh, shut up," I replied wearily. "I can't help it is Garnet is a snake." I moaned. "I just realized that's the first understandable sentence I've said in the past fifteen minutes."  
  
Raising an eyebrow, Garnet returned, "Maybe you can't help Garnet being nasty, but you can refrain from attacking her." Seeing my look of indignation, she hurriedly added, "Even if she deserved it. At least you managed to attract the attentions of Master Merry."  
  
I groaned again. "Don't start."  
  
Tulip shrugged, with a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "All right, all right. But you might as well know that I am not going to let you sit here alone all night, or ever, for that matter."  
  
"Thank you for informing me of that fact," I replied. "But for now, just let me reflect on my grossly inappropriate conduct."  
  
"No. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Tulip dragged me out of my seat by one arm. I sighed and followed toward the hall.  
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I'm sorry, I know this chapter was pretty shoddy. But I got through it *phew*! And look! Merry IS in this story! ::gasps in disbelief:: No!  
  
I swear it'll start getting interesting next chapter. Swear! :D 


	4. An Unwelcome Encounter

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed...I really appreciate it and it has kept me going on this stupid thing. Ü And now, on with the show. Ha.  
  
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It did not take long for Tulip and me to come to the conclusion that the ale was not going to come out of my dress. Tulip was consoled only by the fact that Garnet had unwittingly ruined her own dress, but relief washed over me. Ashamed of my behavior outside, there was nothing I wanted more than to discreetly disappear for the remainder of the night.  
  
Unfortunately, Tulip would have none of it. "You are not, I repeat NOT, going home," she told me firmly. "Stay right here. I'll get you one of your dresses from the house and bring it back."  
  
"What?" I asked. "No! I'm not wearing some old dress out there. If you make me stay, I'm not going to budge from this washroom."  
  
"Fine. Suit yourself," replied Tulip, knowing very well that I was not going to hole myself up in a washroom, no matter how bad the situation. "But you're not leaving."  
  
"Fine."  
  
Tulip cast me a final exasperated look before rushing out the door. The washroom's lounge had a comfortable couch, and I sank down on it with a sigh, grateful for a place to rest. I was an idiot, making a scene on my first day back in Buckland. Feeling awkward just hadn't been enough for me; oh no, I needed to earn a reputation as - as some sort of dangerously violent menace to Bucklebury society. The town gossips would have a field day tomorrow. I wondered vaguely if it would be better to lock myself in my room for about a month or to go on a rampage so that my behavior would be dismissed as insanity, but decided that neither one was entirely desirable.  
  
Another dress arrived with Garnet all too soon - she must have sprinted both ways - and she thrust one of my old but acceptable day dresses at me. I changed quickly, grimacing at the ale-soaked fabric as I peeled it off me and shoved it into Tulip's arms. "Go. Put it somewhere. March up to Garnet and present it to her. Anything. I'll be right behind you."  
  
An expectant glance over her shoulder was Tulip's only answer before she was gone. I waited a few moments before cautiously pushing open the door; the hallway outside was deserted, though music and laughter drifted in from the main chamber.  
  
With stealthy steps I headed in the opposite direction until a wall had the audacity to block my way. A few experimental jiggles of a window and a forcing of its lock quickly remedied that situation, and I furtively clambered through to land with a soft thump on the grass of the lawn. The lights of the pavilion lit only the trimmed fields behind the hall, so the orchards flanking either side were dim enough to obscure my movements. Within a few seconds, I had slipped through the trees and up the hill overlooking the main hall and, beyond it, the street; once at the top, I flopped down against a sturdy trunk and let out a long, drawn-out sigh.  
  
"You are so stupid, Estella," I murmured in a low voice. "Really an idiot." For weeks, I had been worried about making a good impression on my new community, and what had I done? Humiliated myself. If Garnet had meant for me to make a fool out of myself, she had certainly succeeded. The image of a shrieking, ale-soaked Estella Bolger - clutching a fistful of some poor lass's hair - was probably permanently established in the mind of everyone who had seen me. And there had been quite a few onlookers, I remembered, cringing a little at the thought. And Meriadoc, who I'd wanted to get off on the right foot with: what must he have thought? To have to physically restrain me, only to get slapped in the face? He had seemed amiable enough, but even I could manage to put up a good-natured façade for the sake of appearances. Not that I'd been able to keep it up tonight.  
  
I buried my face in my arms, furious with myself as tears began to prick at my eyes. "It doesn't matter what they think," I whispered fiercely. "You know what happened and why. Who cares about anyone's stupid expectations? You shouldn't let their opinions affect your feelings."  
  
But even as I tried to cheer myself up, I knew that I had overreacted. Garnet had seen that I was nervous and uneasy, and she knew how to push me over the limit, even after all these years. I gave a weak, self-pitying sniff and drew a sleeve across my eyes as I sat up.  
  
"Estella?"  
  
I nearly leaped out of my skin at the sudden voice. My head snapped around, and I could barely make out the silhouette of a hobbit in the dim light. As he approached, I recognized Merry Brandybuck.  
  
I hurriedly jumped to my feet. "Good evening, Master Merry. I was just leaving. Pardon me." I started to brush past him, but he reached out a hand as if to stop me and I paused. "What?"  
  
He raised my eyebrows at my curt tone. "I don't - or won't - bite you, you know. I just wanted to see if you were all right."  
  
"Yes, well, I'm fine, thank you," I replied brusquely.  
  
"No one leaves the largest social event Bucklebury's seen all year, and hides under a tree in the dark, unless something's wrong," he pointed out.  
  
I shook my head and again began to push past him, but he called after me, "I'm not stupid, and I'm not going to pretend that I believe you when you say you don't care, so you might as well talk. I don't know Garnet personally, but from what I've heard, she was probably asking for what she got."  
  
Turning, I glared at him. "Of all the arrogance!" I exclaimed. "One, I've already told you: I am fine. Please accept that you were wrong and leave me alone. Two, I really don't care if you think I'm lying, and if you assume that I'm going to pour my heart out to a stranger just because they act understanding, you're sadly mistaken. Three -" I paused. "Well, you were right on that count, at least. Garnet was asking for it, although that doesn't mean that I should have given it to her. And now, if you will kindly excuse me." I whirled back around but had not taken two steps before Merry spoke up again.  
  
"I'm not trying to bother you. I just wanted to see if I could help."  
  
I halted a second time and let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting my head back in exasperation. "You can't. In fact, you're only making it worse."  
  
Merry circled in front of me. "I'm sorry you can't accept help from anyone. You're in for a lonely existence. But for the time being, why are you going back inside? You obviously loathe the idea."  
  
"To get away from you!" I exploded, unable to contain my temper any longer. "You're no different from when I left: a rude, nosy, and altogether irritating hobbit whose only aim in life seems to be to annoy others at their own expense! I, however, HAVE matured in the past ten years, and I'm not stupid enough to put up with you anymore!"  
  
Surprised, Merry looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Personally, I wouldn't consider becoming short-tempered and disrespectful 'maturing.' And as for rude and nosy, the last time I checked, it was polite and thoughtful to try to help someone."  
  
"Even when they've asked you repeatedly to stop?" I shot back, eyes flashing. "Master Brandybuck, make no mistake, I appreciate your concern. But it is completely unnecessary in this case; I don't need your help, or your advice, or your - or anything! I know it must seem strange for a lass my age not to throw herself at you, but however lordly you consider yourself, there are some lasses here in Buckland who have enough brains to look past an impressive reputation and a smiling face!"  
  
"I'm sure those lasses - wherever they are," Merry said quietly, emphasizing the second part of his sentence, "would also have enough brains and little enough pride to recognize common courtesy when they saw it."  
  
"I'm sure they would," I retorted. "But there isn't any to see here."  
  
"No, none at all, from anyone present," Merry agreed. "In fact, I am appalled by it."  
  
"Don't act all high-and-mighty with me!" I snapped. "I was civil for as long as I could stand your prying!"  
  
"Oh, I see now." His expression was infuriatingly calm. "This is just a problem of you having a short attention span."  
  
By this time, I was considerably flustered. I was used to keeping the upper hand in verbal battles, but Merry was sidestepping everything I threw at him, and I was steadily losing ground. I decided that it would be best to back out before I was forced to give in.  
  
"I don't have time for this," I informed Merry curtly. "For the last time, I hope, please excuse me."  
  
"Oh? And where might you be going? I can see you'd rather die than show your face back at the hall," he sneered.  
  
"I'm going HOME!" I cried, my last shreds of patience gone. Close to tears, I bit my lip and turned my head away from Merry so he wouldn't catch my eyes beginning to water.  
  
He sighed, then spoke in a much softer tone. "I'm sorry, Miss Bolger." I glanced at him, surprised by the courtesy. He went on in a weary voice, "I didn't mean for it to blow up like that, I really didn't. I only wanted to make sure you were all right. I could tell you were upset."  
  
I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again, paused, and finally replied carefully, "I accept your apology, Master Brandybuck. I apologize for any feelings I may have hurt. But I repeat for the last time: I am tired and I am going home now. Your assistance is not needed."  
  
Merry shut his eyes in what looked like a moment of frustration, but spoke mildly. "If you are sure, Miss Bolger, then I bid you good night."  
  
"Thank you. Good night."  
  
He bowed slightly; I gave a little curtsy, and he disappeared into the shadows under the trees as I hurried toward the street. Once out of eyesight of the hall, I broke into a dead run, burst into my uncle's house - my house - and into my room.  
  
Collapsing across the bed, I stifled my scream in a pillow.  
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I know it was short. I'm sorry. Stupid schoolwork! Chapter five coming soon! (I hope.) In the meantime, plz review...if it's not too much trouble. Ü 


	5. Apologies and Eggs

Finally! I've gotten this up! Apologies in advance: due to the author's schedule being jampacked, this chapter was written in small sections over the past two weeks, so the flow may not be too great. But oh well. Hope you enjoy anyway! :D  
  
Oh, and thank you so much to those of you who reviewed - I REALLY appreciate it. I've had problems in the past with starting stories and just fizzling out, so the reviews help me keep going. A kick in the pants, if you will. :P And in answer to your question, Senni: yes, Fredegar will have an important role in this story...I'm just not there yet. But I will be soon!  
  
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I awoke to the sound of furious knocking on my door. Sitting bolt upright, I realized that for the second night in a row, I'd ended up sleeping on a still-made bed while fully dressed. I squinted in the direction of my window, gauging the sunlight that poured through, and figured that it was probably about ten o'clock - no wonder Tulip was practically breaking down the door.  
  
She burst in, apparently tired of knocking, and slammed the door behind her. "Stella, just WHO do you think you are?" she demanded crossly, arms folded against her chest.  
  
I passed a hand over my eyes. "I'm really sorry," I began, but Tulip cut me off before I could finish.  
  
"Yes, I know you're sorry. You have more regret and guilt than anyone I know." She glared at me.  
  
"Well, then," I said, rather vaguely.  
  
Tulip sighed and muttered, "Why do I give in to you every single time?"  
  
"Because you're a kind, loving, and compassionate friend?" I suggested hopefully.  
  
"Don't flatter me! But yes." Tulip grinned impishly for a moment, then hurriedly frowned again. "You still have a lot of explaining to do."  
  
I sighed and launched into an account of the previous evening's events. When I had finished, Tulip fixed me with a long, withering stare before shaking her head and muttering, "I swear, Stella, you could pick a fight with - well, I was going to say Fred, since he never gets mad, but since he's also your brother he's probably not a great example. Let's just say you sometimes need to work on holding your tongue."  
  
"I know," I moaned. "And usually I do all right. But yesterday...I guess I was just not in a good mood."  
  
Tulip nodded in rueful agreement. "And now look, here I am, not mad at you anymore. How do you do it?" She shook her head, exasperated. "But in any case, you're still coming with me."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"To the market. Aunt Pearl needs some odds and ends and she's sent me off to get them. And you're coming. It's the least you can do." She raised an expectant eyebrow.  
  
"All right," I replied wearily. "I'll come. Just let me change and I'll be right out."  
  
Tulip snorted. "Oh, I've heard that one before."  
  
I threw up my hands in surrender. "Fine! I'll go as I am, in a wrinkled, slept-in dress!"  
  
"Good," Tulip replied with more satisfaction than was strictly necessary. "No one will care anyway. Let's go."  
  
I smoothed out the rumples in my skirt as best I could before following her out the door.  
  
Bucklebury's central market was, as usual, bustling with ware-sellers and customers alike. Everything from fine cloth to fresh produce to pipeweed was displayed in the numerous shops and stalls, and the air was filled with calls of the vendors and chatter among the townspeople. Pulling a scrap of paper out of her bodice, Tulip glanced at it and read out loud, "Apples, cheese, eggs, and ink. Hmm. Interesting, I didn't know ink was such a popular condiment."  
  
I rolled my eyes. "You're so clever, I think I'll kill myself. Missus Boffin is right here; come on."  
  
As we approached the egg stand, a smiling middle-aged housewife called out, "Why, good morning, lasses! What can I do for ye, Miss Tulip, Miss Estella?"  
  
"Two dozen, if you please, Missus Boffin," Tulip told her. As she handed us our eggs, the older woman flashed us a mischievous grin.  
  
"An' I suppose you two had the lads fallin' all over ye last night," she teased. "Such pretty faces canna have gone unnoticed."  
  
Tulip grinned right back. "Of course. I must have had a train of fifty running after me."  
  
"An' ye, Stella, I suppose ye topped that with sixty?"  
  
I managed a weak smile, wishing that the topic of conversation was anything but the cotillion. "Almost. Only fifty-seven."  
  
"Ah, well, there's always next time," Mrs. Boffin chuckled. She suddenly caught sight of someone behind Tulip and me, and waved a hand in greeting. "Good day to ye, Miss Celandine! One dozen or two, lass? An' how d'ye do, Master Merry?"  
  
I stiffened and shot a glance at Tulip as the two Brandybucks approached the stall.  
  
"Good morning, Cel," Tulip sang, avoiding my eyes. Help was not coming from her; that much was clear.  
  
Celandine smiled in greeting, and Merry replied, "Morning, Miss Tulip - Miss Estella."  
  
My smile was strained and brief. Celandine collected her eggs, Mrs. Boffin bid us a cheery goodbye, and Tulip suddenly piped up, "Where are you off to now, Cel?"  
  
"Home," Celandine answered. "We're finished."  
  
"What a coincidence!" cried Tulip delightedly, linking arms with her friend. "So are we."  
  
I gaped at her. "Tulip, what are you talking about? We've lots more to get!"  
  
Tulip did not appear fazed in the least. "Well, then, here," she chirped, handing me our eggs. "You three go on, I'll only be a minute."  
  
"Oh, I'll come!" exclaimed Celandine, turning to Merry. "Be the dear, sweet cousin that you are and take these for me?" she asked, fixing him with an adoring gaze.  
  
Merry rolled his eyes but grinned and accepted the proffered basket. I started to protest, but was cut off by Tulip's cheerful "We'll catch up in a minute!" and the two lasses were gone.  
  
Merry and I stood, blinking, watching them run off. I stole a quick glance at him, only to find that he'd chosen that exact moment to sneak one at me. We both looked away hurriedly. Merry coughed. I stared at my toes, suddenly very aware of my disheveled dress.  
  
"Well," said Merry finally. "Shall we?" Without waiting for an answer, he started off down the road. Biting my lip, I trotted to catch up, drew in a deep breath, and spoke.  
  
"I - I want to apologize. For last night."  
  
He shot me a startled look. "You don't have to - "  
  
"Yes, I do," I interrupted. "My behavior was inexcusable, and I feel awful about how I treated you. I hope you can forgive me...I suppose I just wasn't at my best last night."  
  
To my amazement, a small smile began to tug at the corners of Merry's mouth. "I'm not THAT idiotic, you know," he said. "I could tell you were more than a bit upset, whether you admitted to it or not."  
  
I blushed. "I was a spoiled brat."  
  
He laughed outright. "Yes, you were," he agreed amiably. "But there are some cases in which it's understandable."  
  
I finally began to relax. "Maybe..."  
  
"Definitely. Your brother filled me in on what happened. You were stretched to the breaking point and Garnet pushed you over." Merry spoke matter-of-factly, but his eyes danced with amusement. "I think it was quite noble of you to defend Fa - Fredegar that way," he concluded solemnly, aiming a half-bow in my direction.  
  
My face hardened. "He's hurting. A lot. No one seems to understand that. And - I don't know, I feel like it's my responsibility to protect him. I get angry with anyone if they hurt him." I shrugged helplessly. "But it got a little out of hand last night. I *was* uncomfortable to begin with; I guess I was just looking for an excuse to leave. Unfortunately, you tried to interfere with my self-pity, and my self-pity didn't like that very much." I glanced up at Merry, and to my surprise, there was something that looked like respect in his expression.  
  
"You shouldn't feel that guilty about it," he said quietly. "You had good intentions, and even if it got a bit out of hand - "  
  
"It did," I cut in wryly.  
  
"Fine, so it did," he corrected, grinning again, "but we all make mistakes. Right? So you can stop obsessing about it and get rid of that dour expression, for goodness' sake. I forgive you, Garnet probably deserved it, and there's nothing else to be guilt-ridden about!"  
  
I attempted a tentative smile. "There you go!" Merry exclaimed. "I was beginning to think your facial muscles were paralyzed." He glanced behind us. "And here come our loyal cousins now. What's the betting they don't even thank us for our service?"  
  
I raised my eyebrows. "I'm not taking that bet."  
  
"There. See, you do possess some common sense. Though not a lot."  
  
I gasped in mock indignation. "Well, excuse me! At least I have any at all. It's a well-known fact that you, Master Brandybuck, can SWIM."  
  
"And why not?" he asked.  
  
"Well, for one thing, it's against all common sense. Which, I thought, was our topic."  
  
"I thought the topic was YOUR lack of it."  
  
I turned and called to my cousin, who was now only a few strides behind, "Tulip - who has more common sense, Merry or me?"  
  
"Merry," she replied emphatically, at the exact moment that Celandine said, "You, Stella, definitely."  
  
Merry and I looked at each other. "Betrayed by our own kin," I said with a melancholy sigh. Merry shook his head in sorrow.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call it betrayed," Tulip began.  
  
"Just...exposed," Celandine finished. "After all, Merry, whose idea was it just last week to throw rocks at Pippin's window to get his attention, but ended up breaking it instead?"  
  
Merry winced. "Actually, I believe that one was Pip's."  
  
Celandine turned to Tulip. "Can you believe that we are talking about two fully-grown hobbits here? You'd never guess." She faced Merry again. "Would he back you up on that?" she inquired, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
"Most likely not. He lies incessantly, you know."  
  
I could not remain silent any longer. "Oh? I seem to recall Pippin revealing - truthfully, I might add - a great many things that a certain Master Brandybuck wished to keep hidden."  
  
"Lies, I tell you! All lies!" cried Merry, before I could reel off a list of incidents. Celandine gave him a playful shove; he pushed her right back. Slipping on a loose stone, Celandine lost her balance and grabbed Merry's sleeve in an attempt to keep her feet. Instead, Merry was caught unawares and he toppled as well, the basket slipping from his grasp. The two Brandybucks and a dozen eggs ended up in one very slimy tangle on the ground.  
  
As Tulip and I watched them wipe egg from their faces, hair, and clothes, we could not help doubling over with laughter. And, after recovering a bit from the shock, Celandine and Merry joined in. We received a good many disapproving looks from hobbits passing to and from the market, but the four of us could not have cared less as we shook with mirth in the middle of the street.  
  
Finally Celandine wiped her eyes and gave a final giggle. "Well, we've lost the eggs," she observed brightly.  
  
"Really?" I replied, getting to my feet. "I hadn't noticed."  
  
Merry reached up for my hand. "Help me up. I think I've been wounded."  
  
"Oh, no," said Tulip, concern in her voice. "What's hurt?"  
  
"Only his pride," I answered, grinning at Merry. "Am I right?"  
  
"Alas, m'lady, you see right through me."  
  
I pulled him up by his sleeve, and he slung an arm around my shoulders as if unable to walk on his own. "Help me," he gasped dramatically. "I think I can make it, with your aid."  
  
Startled, I pulled away and he nearly fell again. "Come on," I said, suddenly uncomfortable. "Enough foolishness. Go get yourself cleaned up or people will think you're an egg monster."  
  
"Which he is," Celandine countered. "But you're right. Meriadoc, wipe that pathetic look off your face and get moving."  
  
Merry started to brush the dust from his trousers, realized the absurdity of it in his egg-plastered state, and instead simply picked up the empty basket. "I guess there's actually a reason they say not to put all your eggs in one basket," he said, sounding more amused than rueful.  
  
"Yes," I agreed. "You never know when a certain clumsy hobbit might drop it."  
  
"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" exclaimed Merry with wide-eyed innocence.  
  
"Goodness no. Think what a disaster that would be!"  
  
"Quite." Merry winked at me before finally turning with Celandine and heading toward Brandy Hall. Tulip and I hurried home as well; while she delivered our purchases to Aunt Pearl in the kitchen, I disappeared to my room. I had a lot to think over.  
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Okay, so you've read: thank you. Now PLEASE review! ::puppy eyes:: :D 


	6. Tablecloths and Warnings

I finished this chapter! ::wild cheering:: As unbelievable as it may sound, it DID take me this long, since I do the majority of my writing in class (tune out my boring History lecture Ü) and lately school has been quite busy and what tune-out time I can get has been used mostly for snatches of nap (Ü), it's been hard to buckle down and get this on paper. On the up side, I've got lots of ideas for upcoming chapters.heheh ::rubs hand together gleefully::  
  
Oh, and thank you SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed; it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy - plus it keeps me going with new chapters! The gift that keeps on giving! Ü  
  
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Two weeks passed in lazy Shire-fashion. And after a slight blowup with Garnet (she was murderous when she found out her dress was ruined, but since she had poured the ale on it herself, there was little she could do about it besides gripe), it was fairly uneventful. But all too soon - or so it seemed to me - the Bolger-Burrows wedding was approaching, and our entire household was drawn into the preparations.  
  
The meadow behind the house was trimmed, tables brought out, arrangements made and provisions ordered. The day of the big event dawned sunny and warm, and the afternoon found Tulip and me ransacking the entire house for one last missing white tablecloth; Aunt Pearl scurried in and out, nearly in a frenzy, directing anyone's and everyone's activities.  
  
"I was SURE there was another one somewhere," she said to us for the umpteenth time as she bustled by. "Keep looking!" There was a hint of panic mixed with desperation in her voice.  
  
Tulip looked at me. "She's been telling us that for the past hour," she pointed out. "There IS no other tablecloth. She's gone mad, what with trying to put this stupid wedding together almost single-handedly."  
  
I rolled my eyes in agreement and replied, "Yes, but as long as she thinks we're actually accomplishing something, she won't give us anything new to work on."  
  
"But we also run the risk of causing her a nervous breakdown," remarked Tulip. "If anything turns out less than perfect..."  
  
"...She might explode," I finished.  
  
Tulip was opening her mouth to reply when the front door suddenly swung open. "Tulip?" Celandine Brandybuck stuck her head inside and, catching sight of Tulip and me, exclaimed, "Oh, good, Stella! I don't know what our problem with keeping eggs is, but my mum was wondering if she could borrow a half-dozen or so - "  
  
"No! No!" cried Aunt Pearl, running across the hall toward the kitchen. "Don't throw that honey out, it's perfectly good and we haven't enough as it is!" She caught sight of Celandine. "Oh, hello, dear - sorry, we're a bit disorganized today - yes, Lily, there's more sugar in that barrel in the corner - oh, what's the use! Hold on, I'm coming!"  
  
Celandine watched my aunt disappear into the kitchen with an expression that was a mix of amusement, disbelief, and exasperation, and then turned back to me. "Is it just me, or is this perhaps not a good time?"  
  
Tulip laughed in reply. "Aunt Pearl might tackle us if we tried to even set foot in that kitchen, if that's what you mean. And I definitely wouldn't recommend going in yourself."  
  
Celandine gave a crooked smile. "What are the chances of me coming out alive?"  
  
"None," I told her wryly, then exclaimed, "Oh! Do you think we could borrow a big white tablecloth? Maybe? It would really help OUR chances of survival."  
  
"I don't know..." Celandine's eye twinkled. "I'm not sure I can let you live...seeing as you won't lend me any eggs..."  
  
Tulip threw herself to her knees in front of Celandine, hands clasped in supplication. "Oh, Great Celandine, spare our lives! Bestow upon thy humble servants a royal tablecloth of thy household!"  
  
Folding her arms, Celandine regarded Tulip - who was now prostrate on the floor - with an air of superiority. "In my bountiful mercy, I shall grant thy request. Thou shalt borrow a royal tablecloth. But remember thou this: thou shalt repay me."  
  
"Anything for our great lady!" I cried, joining Tulip on the floor. "Thy generosity has no limit. What dost thou desire?"  
  
Celandine paused, and in that split second of hesitation, her queenly air was gone, replaced by her ordinary good-natured manner. "I'll think of something," she said, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "If you come I can find one for you right now. Come on."  
  
Tulip leaped to her feet and I followed suit, brushing dust off my skirt. "You'll have to smuggle us out," I told Celandine. "If Aunt Pearl sees us deserting, our lives will be forfeit, you understand."  
  
With a nod and a grin, Celandine signaled her agreement. Tulip glanced toward the kitchen and, judging it safe, eased open the front door and gestured us through wordlessly. Within moments, all three of us were safely out of sight of the house and well on our way to Brandy Hall.  
  
It was a relief to step into the calm of the main entryway; compared to the frenetic activity of our own household, the stillness and peace of the cozy smial was blissful. As if to illustrate the point, when Celandine ushered us into the sitting room off the main hall, Merry was stretched out on an easy chair, arms folded comfortably behind his head and a smoking pipe in his mouth.  
  
"Don't you wish we lived here instead?" Tulip asked, turning to me.  
  
I laughed in response. Merry looked up at us in surprise. "What do you mean?...and hello, by the way," he added as an afterthought.  
  
Grinning, Tulip explained, "Our house is chaos. Garnet's wedding is this evening and we're all expected to pitch in and help."  
  
"Ah, I see," said Merry, raising his eyebrows. "What a shame for you. But in the meantime, I shall remain here, resting peacefully, while you toil away to prepare a joyous occasion for a relative you greatly dislike. Enjoy yourselves."  
  
Tulip and I glanced at each other, then simultaneously seized one of Merry's arms and hauled him to his feet. A rather violent struggle ensued, in which several feet were trod upon and Merry's pipe was lost, but by the time Celandine reappeared with an armful of linen, her cousin had both his arms pinned behind his back and a handful of his sleeve held tight in Tulip's fist.  
  
Celandine blinked, but did not remark on the admittedly strange scene. "You can borrow these," she said instead, fighting hard to keep amusement out of her voice. "But mind you bring them back within a few days or someone is bound to notice they're gone."  
  
"Of course, madam," Tulip agreed amiably. "Merry has courteously decided to come along. Merry, be a gentleman and take the tablecloths, please."  
  
I released my hold on his arms - though I kept a grip on his sleeve - and he obediently accepted the bundle from his now-grinning cousin. Tulip and I saluted Celandine, and we then marched Merry out his front door all the way to our own - at which point all three of us were swooped down upon by Aunt Pearl and immediately put to work.  
  
Merry appeared a bit surprised by this unexpected turn of events, but not at all resentful. In fact, he threw a grin and a quick "I suppose I'll see you a bit later on, then" before heading off to add to the bustle of activity surrounding the tables that were being set up. Recruited to the flower-arranging team, Tulip and I soon lost sight of him, but gave it little thought from then on.  
  
The afternoon seemed to drag on, but eventually the sunset was drawing near and, with it, the wedding ceremony itself. The tables were set, the lanterns hung, the food prepared, and guests were trickling out to take their seats in the rows of chairs arranged under a large canopy.  
  
I had just finished placing the various bouquets of flowers in their designated spots and was about to leave the pavilion when a cousin gave the signal that all was ready, and Garnet emerged from the house with a train of attendants.  
  
She was decked out in full bridal regalia, from her heavily embroidered skirt and bodice to her crown of flowers, and she was beaming from ear to ear as various aunts and female cousins fussed over her, adjusting her dress and whispering pieces of advice. The sight made me feel suddenly sick to my stomach, and I slipped away from the canopied gathering just as Garnet made her grand entrance.  
  
Wandering idly, I slowly made my way to the small brook that meandered through the far meadow. I silently watched it tumble over its bed, occasionally tossing pebbles in to hear the satisfying "bloop" they made when they hit the water. I was still sitting on the bank when a low voice interrupted my reverie.  
  
"Once again, we find ourselves apart from the crowd."  
  
I turned to see Merry approaching. Grinning, I shook my head. "Once again," I echoed. "We seem to be cursed."  
  
"It's a curse I'll put up with," he replied, taking a seat beside me. "Besides, I wasn't invited to this particular event. But I'm sure you were. What's your excuse?"  
  
I sighed. "I didn't think I could stand it."  
  
A raised eyebrow indicated Merry's desire for elaboration; I went on, "She - Garnet's so...so nasty. But she's over there, looking and acting like it's the happiest day of her life, and everyone is fawning over her. It just doesn't seem fair. I mean, look at Fred, who's never said a hurtful thing on purpose in his life, and yet he cries himself to sleep almost every night."  
  
Merry picked up a pebble and fingered it absently. "Sometimes life doesn't seem fair. Sometimes terrible things happen to those who least deserve it. But in the end, good wins out every time."  
  
I looked at him skeptically, but he arched an eyebrow. "I've had more experience with evil than I hope you ever do," he reminded me ruefully.  
  
I blushed. For a moment I'd forgotten whom I'd been speaking to. "I forgot. I'm sorry," I mumbled, staring at the ground.  
  
He shrugged. "I don't mind. It's nice to have someone treat me like a normal hobbit for once."  
  
I shot him a questioning glance. "I never would have thought that having everyone admire and respect you was less than desirable."  
  
"It gets tiresome," Merry replied, with a facial expression that might have been a smile but was closer to a grimace. "Especially when you think - or even know - that it's not genuine. That they're either flattering you to get something, or laughing at you behind your back. That's not pleasant."  
  
"Don't you believe that anyone is sincere? Some of us really do respect you."  
  
He gave a short laugh. "Some of us?"  
  
I blushed again, but replied, "Yes. Us. Including me."  
  
Growing serious again, he said, "I believe you. And I value that."  
  
"But why?" I asked. "I could be insincere too. How do you know I'm different from anyone else you don't believe?"  
  
"Because you don't treat me like a fragile spiderweb or some object to be held in great awe. And you certainly weren't afraid to tell me off when you were angry; if that's not honesty nothing is. And you've changed a lot since you were last in Buckland, but not that much. You are many things, Estella Bolger, but you are not deceitful."  
  
Blinking, I did not reply, for I was at a loss for words. A slightly awkward silence stretched out between us, broken only by the soft burbling of the stream.  
  
A sudden burst of music startled us both, and various cheers erupted from the canopy across the meadow. "I'm assuming the ceremony's over," Merry commented, glancing at me.  
  
I grinned, relieved. "Finally. Time for the banquet!"  
  
"Race you!" Merry exclaimed, jumping up. I leaped to catch up with him, but he had a good head start and I was, after all, wearing a skirt, which was a decided disadvantage. Nevertheless, I had nearly drawn even with him by the time we slowed to approach the long buffet table. He gave me a final parting grin before being swallowed by the crowd, and I returned it just as my arm was seized.  
  
Startled, I turned to face my brother. "Oh, hullo, Fred - " I broke off as I noticed his stormy expression. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Where were you during the ceremony?" he demanded harshly.  
  
I was alarmed by his tone, for Fred's anger was rarely aroused. "I was just up at the meadow..."  
  
"With Merry?" he cut in. I was taken aback, but he went on sarcastically, "And I suppose you just talked, right?"  
  
"Right," I replied, flustered and more than a little frustrated. "Fred, know what you're insinuating, but I assure you there's no reason - "  
  
"Stella, I'm only warning you to keep you from getting hurt," Fred interrupted with exaggerated patience. "I don't trust Merry and you shouldn't either. You can insist that there's nothing between you, but remember that I warned you now. Don't say you didn't know."  
  
"What are you talking about?" I exclaimed, anger creeping into my voice. "Fred, we're friends. For goodness' sake, you two are friends! What is this about not trusting him?"  
  
He shook his head ominously. "There's things about Merry that you don't know and I do. Don't let yourself get hurt. I don't want you to see him."  
  
I gaped. "Fred!"  
  
He held up his hands. "I'm not making you do anything. I'm just saying. Now let's go get some food."  
  
He appeared to have dropped the subject, but throughout the banquet I was thoroughly preoccupied. What was he talking about? I had no doubt that he knew Merry better than I did, but he'd never shown signs of distrust before. And yet Fred was generally on good terms with everyone, and remained so unless something drastic occurred to change his opinion. Surely there must be some reason for his reaction. And what was he worried about anyway? It wasn't as if Merry was courting me. I scoffed at the very thought. We had talked a few times; we enjoyed each other's company. What harm could come of that? And yet I trusted Fred to tell me the truth. There must be something behind his warning. But what?  
  
I was utterly confused.  
  
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Tra-la-la! PLEASE keep R&Ring, and the next chapter will be up much sooner than this one was!!! Ü 


	7. Troubled Waters

Okay, so I lied. This chapter took even LONGER than the last one. Go sue my teachers that give me too much work to do. Ü I apologize, and THANKS SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed! Chocolate kisses all around!  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Though I needled Fred for days after Garnet's wedding, he would not say another word regarding Merry's mysterious faults. He knew me far too well; he was fully aware that my curiosity would plant enough doubt in my mind that he wouldn't NEED to say another word.  
  
Realizing quickly that I had gotten all I was going to get out of Fred, I gave up on trying. He did not seem angry with me; but on the other hand, I myself displayed none of my considerable internal frustration, so his appearance was not a good indication of whether or not he was actually upset. In any case, we managed to neatly avoid the subject altogether for a full month, while the particular Brandybuck in question was sent on some errand of his father's. I was both grateful and a little disappointed; I wanted to ask Merry about Fred's unexpected warning, but I was afraid of his answer. I trusted Fred. He would never condemn someone without good reason, and he certainly would not lie to me. Which had to mean that Merry was hiding something, and whether it was because he didn't trust me or because he had even less wholesome motives, I wasn't happy about it.  
  
As if to mock my black mood, the weather was absolutely glorious. It was only late spring, yet the sun shone in fine summer fashion, the sky was a brilliant azure, and fields of wildflowers, delighted with the sudden warmth, sprang up almost overnight. While I did my best to obscure the sun with a dark scowl, the rest of the household was, predictably, overjoyed.  
  
"Stella, you MUST come on a ride with me today," sang Tulip one gorgeous morning at breakfast.  
  
Abandoning my toast, I turned slowly in my chair and fixed her with a long, wordless stare.  
  
Her laugh was as bubbly as the brook in the back meadow. "You've been surly all week. A nice long ride will do you good."  
  
I tried my very best to freeze Tulip's cheerful brook with my icy gaze. Unfortunately, my efforts were in vain - and Tulip was not backing down.  
  
"I don't care WHAT look you give me," she said, hauling on my arm. "You're coming."  
  
"Why is it," I grumbled, "that every time you insist I do something, something bad happens?"  
  
Tulip gave an exaggerated shrug. "Don't ask me. You're the one who attracts trouble."  
  
With a gasp of mock indignation, I let her pull me to my feet. "Well, then, I'll show you."  
  
"I don't know," Tulip replied with a wry smile. "I don't think you can spend more than an hour outside without getting into some sort of scrape or argument with someone."  
  
I stuck my nose in the air. "And since when does your humble opinion count for anything?"  
  
"Since the day I was born. Let's go." She trotted toward the hallway, beckoning for me to follow. I rolled my eyes and did so.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, both of us were whooping with delight, galloping across the meadow astride two stubby ponies who were considerably distressed by the unexpected exertion. They were blowing hard by the time we slowed them to a walk, entering the outskirts of the woods. Tulip was still giggling with elation from our headlong rush across the field, and I was grinning as well.  
  
"I told you it would make you feel better," Tulip managed to get out, once her hiccups of giddy laughter had subsided.  
  
"Well, yes, considering the fact that I won the race."  
  
Tulip sneered at me. "I let you win."  
  
I sneered back. "Of course you did."  
  
"I was right though. You're more cheerful now."  
  
"So you were right this time," I conceded. "Don't get used to it."  
  
She flashed me a grin. "So now are you going to tell me what's been eating away at you?"  
  
All traces of amusement vanished from my face. "Oh...it's nothing." Tulip raised a skeptical eyebrow and I sighed. "I don't know. Fred's just been acting...strangely lately."  
  
Her brow furrowed. "You know, you're right," she said slowly. "I've noticed it too. Do you know what's wrong?"  
  
I shook my head. "No," I lied. "But last week we got in an argument. I'm a little worried."  
  
The look on Tulip's face was of genuine surprise. "You two fought?"  
  
I nodded wordlessly.  
  
"I had no idea. No wonder you've been upset - you two NEVER fight."  
  
I pursed my lips. "I know. That's the problem: I'm not sure what's going on."  
  
"He won't tell you?" Concern was clear in Tulip's voice.  
  
I shrugged and replied, "Not really."  
  
Tulip peered at me closely. "Now I know you're upset. You've been using gestures instead of words for the past five minutes."  
  
I started to shrug, then caught myself, giving a short laugh. "It's not a huge issue." I drew in a deep breath just as my mount's ears, which had previously been drooping in exaggerated fatigue, perked up. Tulip's pony quickened his gait and my own pulled against the bit.  
  
"Hullo," commented Tulip, speaking directly to her mount. "What happened to the I'm-so-exhausted-I'm-about-to-collapse act? Slow down. We're not going to the river." The pony snorted in protest as Tulip guided him to the left.  
  
My mare, whose mouth was about as sensitive as a rock, ignored my hold on the reins and broke into a trot towards the unmistakable sound of rushing water directly ahead of us.  
  
"She's not going to pay attention to me," I called over my shoulder to Tulip, whose gelding was straining at the bit but remaining on the path. "You'd better come along."  
  
Tulip sighed and eased up on her pony's reins. He leaped forward, all traces of former weariness gone, to catch up to my own mount. Soon both of them were up to their knees in flowing water, thoroughly pleased with themselves.  
  
Tulip glanced at me. "Well, it's a beautiful spot, anyway."  
  
I had to admit it was. The river's - or, more accurately, the large stream's - banks sloped gently up toward the trees beyond, covered with a generous carpet of thick grass. The sun filtered through the leaves above, dappling the ground with patterns of green and gold.  
  
I tugged on my mare's reins. "Come on, girl, out." She ignored me, dribbling her muzzle in the water as it coursed between her front legs. Sighing, I dismounted with a splash and hauled on her bridle. She followed me amiably ("Now, why couldn't you do that when I was nice and dry up in the saddle?") up to the bank and I secured the reins to a sturdy tree branch. Tulip did the same with her gelding, and the two of us flopped down on the soft grass.  
  
We both lay there for a few minutes, staring silently up at the blue sky, until Tulip abruptly asked me if I had, by any chance, heard that Berilac Goodbody had asked for Myrtle Burrows' hand in marriage, and that Myrtle had turned him down. My gasp of surprise was all the initiative she needed to launch into a detailed and decidedly juicy account of the entire tale, and it was not long before both of us were thoroughly wrapped up in what should have been the private affairs of half of Bucklebury. It was delightful.  
  
We were both startled, therefore, when a sudden shrill whinny jolted us back to the present. Turning, we saw my mare looking on in bemusement as Tulip's gelding half-reared, ears laid back and eyes rolling in terror. Tulip also rolled her eyes, but in exasperation.  
  
"He's gone and spooked again," she muttered. "I swear, that animal...he sees a twig and thinks to himself, 'Oh no, look, it's a SCARY stick! It's going to bite me! Panic! Run away!' ...Honestly."  
  
She approached the pony's side, making various soothing noises and reaching for his bridle. He violently snapped his head away, straining to break his reins that were still tied firmly to the branch. And since the reins were admittedly of rather poor quality, they tore almost immediately. Tulip did not even have time to grab for a trailing end before both bridle and pony were crashing away into the trees.  
  
Tulip turned to me, and I just barely managed to stifle a giggle at her pathetic expression. "I suppose I'd better go and get him," she said, resignation in her tone.  
  
I got to my feet. "I'll come."  
  
She shook her head wearily. "No, you'd better stay." She jerked her head at my pony, who was now happily chomping on her bit. "She'll probably strangle herself if we leave her alone, and we can't both ride her."  
  
"I can ride and you can walk," I suggested helpfully.  
  
"Just let me go alone. I'll be back soon," Tulip said, grimacing.  
  
I shrugged. "Fine. Remember, it was your choice."  
  
She waved me off and disappeared into the trees. I lay back down with a sigh. It was not the first time Tulip had had to track down and retrieve her remarkably nervous gelding, and I wondered idly why she kept him. It had to be simple attachment. I certainly wouldn't put up with him for as long as Tulip had. On the other hand, I put up with a hard-mouthed, stubborn, and rather stupid - though good-natured - mare, something Tulip would probably never endure.  
  
My rambling and altogether pointless musings were interrupted by the sound of hoof beats. Was Tulip back already? I sat up in time to see a pony and rider appear on the opposite side of the creek, but it was not Tulip and her neurotic gelding. As the mounted figure raised a hand in greeting and called out a cheery, "Well, hullo there, Miss Estella!" I realized, with a mixture of horror and some other positive emotion I could not name, that it was Merry Brandybuck himself.  
  
I leaped to my feet, brushing stray twigs and leaves from my hair. "Master Brandybuck!" I called back. "I thought you were still in Hobbiton!"  
  
Merry laughed as he guided his pony a short distance downstream to a shallow ford. "My business there finished early, I'm happy to say. The road was dusty and rather crowded, so I decided to cut through the forest here for some solitude. You seem to have ruined my plans." He dismounted and looped his reins over the same branch my mare's were.  
  
"Yes. Well," I stammered, uncomfortable and unsure of how to act. Now that I was face to face with Merry once again, all my convictions that Fred was right in calling him some sort of villain were quickly evaporating.  
  
His eyes twinkled. "You really should start interacting with other hobbits, Stella. This is the third time I've found you all by yourself, as far away from everyone else as you can get."  
  
I blushed and studied a particularly fascinating beetle crawling by my feet. "Well, I'm really here with Tulip, only her pony got loose. She's looking for him now. She'll be back. I spend lots of time with her." This somehow seemed to me to be a satisfactory reply.  
  
Merry's hand touched my chin, turning my face back toward him. Startled, I flinched away. "What?"  
  
"Is something wrong?" He peered at me with concern in his dark eyes.  
  
"Whatever gave you that idea?" I replied, a little too quickly, and then added hurriedly, "No, there isn't."  
  
Merry said nothing but raised his eyebrows. I raised mine right back. "What?" I repeated.  
  
"I'm not even going to try," he said, shaking his head with what looked like a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Last time I got a tongue- lashing I'd not like to repeat."  
  
I blushed again. "I already said I was sorry."  
  
"I know," he answered. "I'm not blaming you. I'm just saying I'm not going to try to get you to talk."  
  
I shrugged. A heavy silence fell that somehow seemed to muffle the splashing of the stream.  
  
"Look, do you want to be left alone?" Merry asked suddenly. "Because I'll leave, I'm sorry if I - "  
  
"No! No," I interrupted. "Nothing like that." I forced a laugh. "I've just been a little out of sorts lately. Please, sit down," I added, taking a seat myself and indicating the grass. "It's not the most dignified of chairs, but it's comfortable."  
  
His expression was of relief. "Why, thank you, I shall." He settled himself down on the ground and peered at the sky. "It's glorious."  
  
"Yes, it is. Tulip convinced me to go for a ride today, and we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves until her stupid gelding spooked and bolted off."  
  
He grinned, then passed a hand across his forehead. "It's a bit warm, though," he commented. He glanced at the stream, then at me. "That pool there would make a fine swimming hole."  
  
I made a face. "No thank you, Master Brandy-Mad-Buck. I like to keep my feet on solid ground."  
  
"At least come and put your feet in. It feels wonderful on your toes."  
  
I rolled my eyes but followed him as he got up and trotted upstream to the base of a large willow. Its roots secured a section of bank that dropped off into a wide, calm pool. Merry plopped himself down on the knobbly roots and slipped his feet into the water with his eyes closed and a sigh of contentment. Opening his eyes, he glanced at me as I stood, hesitant, a few feet from the edge. "Come on," he urged. "It's nice and cool."  
  
I forced a laugh, trying to keep my voice light. "Actually, I'm fine."  
  
Merry scrambled to his feet. "No you don't. Come on then, just put your feet in."  
  
I backed up a pace. "No, thank you. I'd rather not."  
  
"Don't be such a baby," he teased. "Water on your feet is a long way from swimming."  
  
I twisted my face into a smile, feigning nonchalance. "At least I don't act like a baby all the time, unlike certain hobbits I could name."  
  
He laughed. "Come on," he repeated, giving me a playful shove.  
  
With my tense posture, I was unprepared for even the slight push. I stumbled back a step - and slipped on a loose stone among the roots. With a shriek and a splash, I tumbled into the dark water of the hole.  
  
As water closed above my head, my first thought was of absolute panic. Flailing my arms, I managed to break the surface long enough to scream before disappearing beneath the water again. I gasped in terror and inhaled a mouthful of water; convinced that I was going to drown, I suddenly felt a strong hand grip my arm and haul me into the bright sunshine once again.  
  
I coughed and hacked and gasped, clinging to Merry's wet sleeve. I was sobbing and choking at the same time, while Merry was talking a mile a minute. "Stella, I had no idea - I'm so sorry - the water's shallow enough to stand, you silly - but you didn't know that - I'm so sorry - "  
  
He half-guided, half-carried me to the bank and helped me climb up onto the grass. I lay there, hiccuping, fighting for control of my sobs. When I was finally able to speak, I managed a weak smile at Merry. "I'm sorry."  
  
"YOU'RE sorry?" he asked incredulously. "For goodness' sake, lass, I'm the one that pushed you in, even accidentally!"  
  
"I must have given you a scare."  
  
He nodded fervently. "You did that. Why didn't you just stand up?"  
  
"I didn't know it was that shallow. I panicked."  
  
He fixed me with a curious stare. "Why does water scare you so much?" He was surprised as my eyes filled with tears again. "You don't have to tell me," he said hurriedly.  
  
I shook my head. "No, it's all right. I thought you knew. I thought you were there..."  
  
"Where?" he asked, obviously confused.  
  
"That's right, you weren't. We were in Tuckborough - some sort of family gathering. There was a lake..." I paused, trying to recall the details. "It was so long ago. I was only nine. Practically a baby. There was a lake, I think. We were all playing on the beach, all of my cousins and I, with some of our parents within earshot. And there was an old rowboat, dragged up onto the sand. Garnet was there; she said I was too afraid to go out on the water in the boat. I said I wasn't, so she told me to prove it. I would only do it if she'd come along, so we both pushed the boat out onto the water and climbed in. We paddled out where the water was well over our heads, and then Garnet stood up and started waving at everyone still onshore." I paused and shivered, remembering. "I yelled at her to sit down. She told me I was a baby and began rocking the boat side to side, more and more. I kept yelling at her, and soon most everyone on the beach was yelling at her to stop too, but she just laughed and rolled the rowboat more. And then...then she lost her balance and the whole thing capsized. Neither of us could swim. Garnet managed to keep a solid hold on the boat, but I lost my grip and started to go under. I screamed, and Garnet screamed, and all my cousins on the shore screamed, and within seconds my father had burst out of the trees surrounding the lake and was charging out to us. He couldn't swim himself, but he flailed his way out to me and pushed me far enough to cling to the boat. But he wasn't able to get that far himself. I tried to grab him...but he was gone. The lake took him." I drew in a deep, shuddering breath and tucked my knees up to my chin. "That's why I'm afraid of the water."  
  
Merry stared at me silently, then slowly put his arm around my shoulders. I buried my face in his shoulder as tears pricked at my eyes again, and for a full minute I sat motionless, fighting to regain control of my emotions, and then pulled away, wiping at my eyes. "Thank you," I said quietly. "I appreciate it."  
  
When he didn't answer, I glanced up at him questioningly, only to see him gazing at me with an expression I could not name. It was a mixture of, among other things, sorrow, and pity, and respect, and gentle amusement and - was it affection? I was confused for a moment, until Merry slowly reached out, cupped my cheek in his hand, and leaned in to place a gentle kiss on my lips.  
  
I melted for a split second - then roughly shoved him away. "You - you brute!" I cried. "Fred was right! You ARE a monster! You just couldn't stand it, could you?"  
  
"What?" exclaimed Merry. "What are you talking about?"  
  
I shot him a look of utter scorn. "Don't play dumb with me, Master Brandybuck. I'll spell it out for you, to remind you. You just couldn't stand the fact that there was a lass in the Shire who didn't throw herself at you. I suppose it was just too big a blow to your puffed up ego. So you push me into a water hole, knowing it would terrify me, and then try to seduce me while I'm still traumatized! Really, I thought the Brandybuck name had more value than that!"  
  
Merry's face flushed with anger. "What? I had no intention of seducing you! How dare you insult me so lightly?"  
  
I snorted derisively. "Of course, deny it now that I've rejected you."  
  
"Yes, I DO deny it!" he cried, eyes narrowing. "I have no intention other than to court you, Miss Bolger, though I'm having second thoughts now - perhaps I should leave a short-tempered, rude lass well enough alone!"  
  
"Excuse me?" I shot back. "I am not the one who takes advantage of others' fears and weaknesses."  
  
"Neither am I. You, however, are a disrespectful hussy who, instead of being ashamed of herself, tries to shift all blame, real or not, onto others!"  
  
I gasped in indignation. "Must you deny everything that you bear responsibility for?"  
  
"I deny everything I do NOT bear responsibility for. I do NOT bear responsibility for your fevered fantasies and imagined motives. I do NOT bear responsibility for your refusal to listen to me. In short, I bear responsibility for nothing besides that one kiss. Which, I might add, I take back. And now, Miss Bolger, I bid you good day!" He whirled and practically tore his pony's reins off the branch.  
  
"You - I - you can't take back a kiss!" I yelled at him, utterly flustered, as he mounted and wheeled the mare.  
  
"Oh, can't I?" he returned, his voice dangerously low and challenge glinting in his eyes.  
  
I stared back at him, and in my effort to remain expressionless bit my lip so hard it bled. Merry shot me one last scornful glance before giving his mount a dig in the ribs with his heels and disappearing among the tree trunks.  
  
As soon as he was out of sight, I collapsed on the ground, sobbing. Everything had gone wrong. I was devastated; Fred had been right. Merry was self-serving, self-centered, and - oh, who was I fooling? Something had gone wrong, not with Merry, but with me. I'd been so surprised and so taken aback that I'd managed to drive off the hobbit I least wanted to offend.  
  
I caught myself. The hobbit I least wanted to offend? I gave a short bark of laughter. Yes. Ironic, wasn't it? I only realized that I loved a hobbit after I had insulted and rejected him. Fine way to gain admirers. Garnet had been right: marriage was never something I would have to concern myself with; I'd never get that far.  
  
I'd lost Merry before I even knew I needed him.  
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Ick. Cheesy. I needed to get that chapter over with. Now it's done! Now we can move on to more interesting plot developments!! (Everyone looks at each other. "Plot? What plot?") ANYWAY.please press that fascinating little button right there on the bottom left. The 'review' one. Well, if you want. Thank you! ::passes out more chocolate kisses:: 


	8. A Brandybuck and a Brother

I apologize for the HUGE delay...(or it seems like it to me, anyway)...if you like, you're perfectly welcome to march right up to my school and demand that certain *cough* teachers be FIRED for assigning too much work *COUGH*.alas, I'm afraid tenure has saved their sorry backsides more than once. Ah well.  
  
A giant thank you to all of my reviewers. *sniff* It means a lot to me, PLUS it keeps me motivated. ::Passes out chocolate and roses to everyone, including (but NOT LIMITED TO): Lady of Ithilien, Marion, Natta, Aurora, ShireElf, Artemis-Chan, Senni, Thorn, Coneflower Adams, Cass, bertiebottsgeorge, Firiel, Carmen, Artemis, The Phantom, katakanadian, EowynFan, Siofra, x-silver-saffire-x, Thorn Garden, Aelimir, Arahirien, The Hobbit Children, SarahSweetie, and any/all lurkers who have read but not reviewed!::  
  
(Everyone yells, "GET ON WITH IT!!")  
  
Fine. I will.  
  
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Within a few minutes, most of my regret had evaporated. After thinking the matter over for about three seconds, I managed to execute yet another mental-about face and convince myself that I had done the right thing after all in rejecting Merry.  
  
"He as good as told you himself, Stella," I reminded myself out loud, as I morosely untied my pony's reins and mounted. "He TOLD you he noticed that you didn't treat him differently from anyone else. He's a war hero and the heir to the Master of Buckland - of course he was insulted. Of course he tried to change that, in any way he could. Just think what might have happened if you hadn't sent him off."  
  
I continued in this vein, trying to justify my actions, as I kicked my mare into a brisk trot and gave her her head. I cared little about where I was going, so long as I was alone with my thoughts.  
  
So, of course, the pony made a beeline for the nearest place I would NOT be alone: the road, only a mile or so to the north. Wrapped up in my musings, I failed to realize this fact until it was too late and I was already blinking in the sudden sunlight.  
  
"I should have seen that one coming," I muttered to the mare, then sighed. "Right, then, let's go home." I glanced up to catch sight of a cart directly ahead of us, and the curly mane of hair belonging to the driver looked far too familiar.  
  
"Oh, curses," I hissed under my breath. "It's Celandine."  
  
I yanked on the reins in an effort to suggest to my mount that we should perhaps get off the road, but she was evidently looking forward to getting home; instead of turning, she merely shook her head in annoyance and snorted loudly. At the noise, Celandine turned to see who was behind her; when she recognized me, her face hardened.  
  
If I could have turned myself invisible through sheer willpower, I would have. As it was, I did my best to shrink away from Celandine's hostile gaze; for although I did not yet know what she was angry about, my recollection of the direction that Merry had galloped off in - north - gave me a pretty good clue.  
  
"What did you do?" she demanded sharply, halting the cart so that I drew alongside.  
  
"I beg your pardon?" I figured it was best to play innocent. Perhaps I was wrong about the cause of Celandine's anger.  
  
"Don't act the idiot, Stella. Merry rode by here not five minutes ago, nearly in tears."  
  
Or - more likely - perhaps I was right. I sighed inwardly, but shot back, "What does that have to do with me?"  
  
"My cousin does not cry easily. At the moment, I am aware of only a few things that could cause him to, and of those, the signs most clearly point to you." Celandine's normally calm grey eyes were presently as dark as storm clouds, and every bit as threatening.  
  
"Oh, well then, Cel," I replied, deciding to cut to the chase, "I'm sorry, but I'm not going to let any hobbit, whether he is your cousin or not, take advantage of me just to bolster his ego!"  
  
Celandine gaped, genuinely surprised. "What? Why would he do that?"  
  
"You expect ME to answer that?" I asked scornfully. "Why don't you ask HIM why he needs to disgrace me?"  
  
"Because that's the LAST thing he would do!" Catching my look of skepticism, she cried, "Stella, he loves you!"  
  
I was taken aback - but only for an instant. "Oh, so he's fed that lie to you, too, has he?" I sneered.  
  
"For goodness' sake, pull yourself out of your hole of self-pity and cynicism!" Celandine exclaimed. "I know Merry. The past month, while he's been gone, he's written to me of nothing but you! When he told me he was going to tell you how he felt, I encouraged him - because keeping it hidden was eating him alive, I could feel it. My cousin is many things, Stella, but he is not deceitful!"  
  
I blinked, and as the words sank in I recalled Merry's own statement on Garnet's wedding day. And now, looking into Celandine's stormy but serious eyes, I knew she was right.  
  
"I've been trying to convince myself of that for weeks," I murmured, more than a little stunned and speaking more to myself that Celandine. "It's been eating ME alive. And now that I know, it's too late."  
  
Celandine regarded me with something unpleasantly akin to satisfaction. "I wouldn't blame him," she said deliberately, "if he never spoke to you again. He's most likely crushed."  
  
"Don't you think I'M crushed?" I exclaimed. "...Never mind, don't answer that. But I am. Has he gone to Brandy Hall?" I was nearly frantic.  
  
"I've no idea," Celandine replied coldly.  
  
"If you see him, tell him I wish to speak with him, will you?" I asked desperately. Celandine did not answer, but I pressed her, "Cel. Please. For my sake, but more importantly for HIS, will you tell him?"  
  
She finally let out a vaguely affirmative grunt, and then I was off like a shot down the road. An inquiry at Brandy Hall proved unsuccessful ("Nay, Miss Bolger, he's not come home yet from Hobbiton, ye know that,") and I decided to collect my scattered wits at home while I waited for Merry's reappearance. Besides, there was something I wanted to discuss with my brother.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
After a half-hour of asking everyone in the house about Fred's whereabouts, I managed to track him down in the garden, where he was weeding the carrots.  
  
"Fred," I said, standing over him with my hands on my hips, "We need to talk."  
  
He sat back on his heels and wiped his grimy hands on his breeches, which, since they were equally grimy, had no effect whatsoever on their cleanliness. Fixing me with a questioning stare, he replied pleasantly, "Ah, yes, the dreaded 'We need to talk.' What's bothering you, Stella?"  
  
I sighed mentally, reluctant to come right out and confront him. "I've been wondering...You remember the day of Garnet's wedding?"  
  
Fred face darkened ever so slightly. "Yes...?"  
  
My sigh was audible this time, and I knelt in the dirt between the turnips and the radishes. "Fred," I began earnestly, and the rest of the sentence tumbled out in a rush of words. "I need to know what - what you were referring to when you told me to stay away from Merry."  
  
My brother's expression hardened, as did his voice. "Is this what this is about?" he asked coldly, getting to his feet. "I can say nothing more than the fact that whether or not you choose to listen to me is your choice."  
  
"I DO listen to you!" I exclaimed, peering up at him from the turnips. "I just want to know what you know!"  
  
"And why would you care?"  
  
I rose and gently took Fred's hand. "I don't want to make you angry," I said quietly. "I just want to know what's going on. I'm a little confused right now."  
  
Fred jerked his hand away roughly. "Oh, and I wonder why," he sneered. "I suppose he's finally professed his undying love for you, has he?"  
  
My face flushed; I could feel my cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and quickly rising aggravation. "Not really," I replied, but went on quickly, " - but that's not the point, Fred!"  
  
"Oh, but it is," he insisted, eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't you believe him for a second, Stella. He WILL hurt you."  
  
"Fred!" I cried, in a combination of frustration and anger. "He is a dear friend of mine, and, I thought, of yours too, and you have given me no reason to doubt him save your single mysterious warning - but I trusted you, and as a result I've alienated both him and Celandine! I'd like to at least know why I've made myself an enemy of the entire Brandybuck family!"  
  
My brother's steely gaze did not waver for a second. "I told you to be careful. Isn't that enough for you?"  
  
"No," I said faintly, and then with greater conviction, "No, it isn't. Not anymore."  
  
"Why not?" he demanded sharply.  
  
"Because I love him, Fred!" I burst out.  
  
In truth, Fred seemed less surprised by this revelation than I was. As I clapped my hands over my mouth in shock, his hostility seemed to abruptly dissolve, to be replaced with a weary resignation.  
  
"I know," he said simply.  
  
I gaped. "What? What are you talking about? I - but - I didn't know myself until just now!"  
  
"I know," he repeated.  
  
"Then - what - I - then why...?" I broke off and pinched the bridge of my nose with my fingers, drawing in deep, steadying breaths.  
  
Fred gave me a wry smile. "I know you better than you know yourself," he informed me. "Sometimes that comes in handy."  
  
My short laugh had more hysteria than mirth in it. "I'm afraid I'm still a bit confused, Fred. Care to explain?"  
  
"Things are more complicated now that you've realized your feelings," he went on meditatively, as if I hadn't spoken. "I can't hide it from you any longer."  
  
"Hide WHAT from me?" I cried in desperation.  
  
Fred's expression was a remarkable mixture of wide-eyed innocence, resignation, gentle amusement, and sadness. "That you two are perfect for each other."  
  
I held up a hand. "All right. Need...to sit down." I bent unsteadily and groped for the moist dirt with my other hand. Fred regarded me impassively as I silently counted to ten. "Fred...please. For the last time, I hope. Kindly explain why, although you yourself have said that I love Merry and that we are - as you put it - 'perfect for each other,' you have warned me to stay away from him, with the clear purpose of keeping me from learning his own intentions."  
  
Fred shook his head with bittersweet amusement. "My dear, sweet baby sister, you of all people should know." I was about to say something rather rude in reply, but he went on before I could speak, with that same air of quiet acquiescence. "I had my suspicions about Merry since the night of the cotillion, and the weeks that followed - along with several conversations with Celandine on the subject - were enough to confirm my fears. By the day of Garnet's wedding I knew I had to take action - as I said before, I know you better than you know yourself, and I needed to prevent you from becoming too close to him. It would only work as long as you didn't realize what was happening or even how you felt, and now..." He trailed off and shrugged in a helpless sort of way.  
  
I passed my hand over my eyes and replied, "I can figure that much out on my own. But, Fred - you're just doing what I do, using a lot of words and dodging the real question: why?"  
  
He sighed, and his posture was that of one who knows he has been completely defeated. "Stella," he told me quietly, "you're the only constant thing in my life. After Father - after Father died, and mother went back to her family and seemed to forget she'd ever been anything but a Took, you stood by me. It was you and me, all those years. We were our own family, even when I was off gallivanting with Pippin and Frodo and Folco and Merry and that lot. And then everything else changed. The world turned on its end, all topsy-turvy like. But through it all, I had my sister." He smiled crookedly at me. "I couldn't let some fool of a Brandybuck come and whisk her away. I couldn't let him take away the one hobbit I could count on to be there for me."  
  
My eyes filled with sudden tears. What he must have gone through, believing that I would abandon him...  
  
Fred heaved a sigh. "I suppose you'll be going now," he said ruefully. "I'll understand if you don't wish to speak to me."  
  
I slowly got to my feet, my expression blank; Fred looked at me with fear and sorrow in his eyes.  
  
I threw my arms around him, damp soil and all. "Oh, Fred," I burst out, "I could never leave you like that."  
  
My brother did not reply, but I could feel his entire frame relax as I embraced him. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he hugged me tightly back.  
  
"Just because I love Merry doesn't mean I don't love you," I went on - and was startled as Fred tensed up again immediately.  
  
"Stella," he said firmly, stepping back so that he held me at arm's length, "You can't have it both ways. You will choose Merry in the end. You'll be a Brandybuck, not a Bolger. You'll be his wife, not my sister."  
  
"I can be both," I insisted, my eyes pleading him to understand. "But whatever happens, I will always be your sister."  
  
Fred shook his head stubbornly. "Stella. You know as well as I do you'll choose one way or the other. You throw all of yourself into whatever you do, and this will be no different." He drew closer again. "Will you pick Merry and become a Brandybuck, or will you remain a Bolger, as you always have been?"  
  
I knew, as he fixed me with an intense and questioning gaze, that there was only one possible answer. "Oh, Fred," I told him, my voice husky, "You are my brother, and you always will be."  
  
"You'll forget Merry then?" he asked anxiously, gripping my arms harder in expectation.  
  
His eyes were shining so brightly with eager hope that I could not bear to disappoint him. "Of course," I said heavily. "I will."  
  
He swept me up into another tight hug, and as he murmured, "Thank you, Stella," I thought hopelessly to myself, "How am I ever going to get out of this mess?"  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Ugh. I am no good at all with angst. ::rolls eyes:: ANYWAY, more (non- angst!) will be coming soon! And review, please, or otherwise I might decide this story is more trouble than it's worth! :P  
  
Disclaimer: Although I love it, I do NOT own the phrase "My dear, sweet baby sister." My favorite brother character of all time does. Come to think of it, I don't own ANYTHING in this story. Except maybe Tulip. I own her. Oh, and Garnet. That's all. Hurray, that was late. About seven chapters late, in fact. ANYWAY, I'll shut up (All: ::breathe a sigh of relief::) 


	9. An Unintended Betrayal

*sigh*  
  
Getting very sick + writer's block + major projects and tests in EVERY CLASS = one very late chapter.  
  
I apologize. HOWEVER...I have FINALLY gotten this done!! Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently.or not patiently ( Ü), I have not forgotten this story or you.  
  
And without further ado...:  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"You WHAT?" Tulip cried, her face a mask of horror and disbelief.  
  
We were in my bedroom, where I'd hurriedly dragged her after she appeared in the main hall, still grumbling about "that stupid nag - he'll kill himself one of these days - and I won't be sorry, oh no, not at all. I'll rejoice, in fact - good riddance to the idiot pony." I had immediately pounced on her and recounted the day's events that she had missed. She now stared at me with wide, startled eyes.  
  
"What were you THINKING, Stella?" she demanded.  
  
I shrugged miserably. "And here I was, hoping for some support. Remind me to never again come to you looking for sympathy."  
  
"Sympathy?" echoed Tulip shrilly. "Sympathy? This is not some childish little woe-is-me blunder. Merry loves you!"  
  
Throwing a pleading glance toward the rafters, I muttered, "Why am I always the last person to know about these important personal details?"  
  
"Because you always manage to muck things up," said Tulip, staring at me as if this were an obvious fact, and if I failed to recognize it I had the intelligence of her gelding.  
  
I was about to vehemently deny this when I realized that she had a point. And at the moment, I'd managed to tangle myself up so thoroughly into this mess that I could hardly see a way out. "I know," I admitted finally, rubbing the heel of my hand across my face. "You're right. I always let my temper get in the way of my common sense."  
  
Tulip snorted in derision.  
  
I shot her a look. "Contrary to popular belief, I DO possess some common sense. - But that's beside the point," I went on hurriedly. "Do you suppose it's too late to apologize?"  
  
"To Merry? ...I don't know."  
  
I blinked in surprise. "No, to Fred!"  
  
"Fred?" Tulip exclaimed. "Who CARES about Fred? He's being a selfish, manipulative little pig at the moment, while Merry's heart is most likely shattered!"  
  
I met her gaze coldly. "Don't you dare speak of my brother in such a manner," I murmured with forced calm.  
  
Tulip, her face flushed with emotion, barreled on. "I can and I will! Fred knows you'd do anything for him, and he's using it against you -" she caught my furious look - "whether he means to or not. And that's not fair to Merry OR to you!"  
  
"But he's my brother!" I protested.  
  
Tulip drew in a steadying breath. "Stella," she began evenly, "Your loyalty towards Fred is touching. It is also completely misplaced. Your brother's life will go on if you marry. He loves you and would prefer not to lose you, of course, but his life will go on. Perhaps he doesn't realize how manipulative he is being. Perhaps he doesn't realize how much of a -" She caught herself, and seemed to think better of what she had been going to say. " - How unfair it is to treat you like this. And perhaps he really does think you'll turn your back on him. But you won't. You know that, and I know that, and deep down Fred knows it too. But right now, I believe there is a very heartbroken Brandybuck returning to Brandy Hall, and even though you don't show it, you're upset too. So. What are we going to do to fix this situation?"  
  
I stared at Tulip.  
  
"Hmm?" she prompted, sounding irritated.  
  
I blinked a few times. "I - I don't know."  
  
Tulip let out a sound of frustration that was something between a sigh and a roar. "To begin with, maybe you should decide whether Merry is important enough that you give him an ounce of respect," she suggested icily.  
  
To my chagrin, my eyes began to blur with tears. "Don't, Tulip, please. I feel horrible enough about this mess already. I don't know how to manage this kind of thing. Garnet was right. I'll never get married; who could possibly put up with me?"  
  
My cousin sighed and put an arm around my shoulder. "Someone who loves you. And I believe a certain young Brandybuck that we've already mentioned fits that bill fairly well."  
  
I let out a hiccupping sob - to my profound embarrassment - and Tulip laughed. "Take a nap," she told me, standing up. "Things will look better after a rest."  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
When I awoke, the first fingers of sunlight were appearing on the horizon, turning it a delicate shade of pink. I hated pink.  
  
"Tulip lied," I muttered to myself. "Things don't look any better. They just look..." I fumbled. "Dark. And a little pink." I let out a long sigh. I would not be able to fall back asleep, not after such a long 'nap.' Instead, in a fit of insanity, I figured that as long as I was awake, I might as well tidy up the stables.  
  
Two hours later, I was standing in a stall, holding a filthy pitchfork in my hand and wondering what it was about the predawn hours that induced madness in normally sensible hobbits. By this time, the sun had fully risen and the house was showing evidence of stirring inhabitants; smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, and a collective screaming squawk issued from the henhouse as a tweenage cousin foolishly allowed his dog to accompany him while gathering eggs.  
  
I tossed one last pitchforkful of what had once been my mare's dinner into the wheelbarrow and decided enough was enough. When I made my appearance in the dining hall, I was clean again and in fresh clothes, and felt much better on the whole.  
  
At least I did until I caught sight of Fred. He caught my eye and smiled, and my stomach felt like it turned itself inside out. I remembered the previous day's happenings in a rush, and suddenly I didn't feel so much like eating breakfast. Sneaking out a side door, I thought I had managed to escape when I was accosted by, of course, Tulip.  
  
"Good morning, Stella," she chirped. I couldn't tell if her cheeriness was genuine or not, and my answering smile was hesitant. She raised an eyebrow. "What? No, I'm not going to eat you alive. I daresay you feel a bit better now?"  
  
I admitted that I did.  
  
She flashed me an infuriatingly smug smile. "I always know best."  
  
"Yes," I agreed, a wry smile crooking a corner of my mouth upward. "You do."  
  
"I do," Tulip repeated, and laughed. "Eaten yet?"  
  
"Yes," I lied, unwilling to return to the dining hall and face my brother. "Have you a brilliant plan, beloved cousin?"  
  
The 'beloved cousin' tossed her head in disdain. "Of course I have. It's brilliantly brilliant. It's so brilliant that its brilliance is unrivaled in brilliance."  
  
I blinked a few times. "Stop."  
  
"Right," she replied, and suddenly became businesslike. "Remember the tablecloth we borrowed from Celandine? We still need to return it."  
  
"Something tells me I'm not particularly welcome in that household right now," I pointed out.  
  
"Yes, but he's not angry at ME," Tulip answered. "I'll take it."  
  
"I thought the point was for me to talk to him, not you."  
  
Tulip regarded me as if I had just announced that two and two were five. "I'll take the tablecloth in a basket, of course. And you'll be in the basket, too."  
  
"That's your brilliant plan?" I exclaimed incredulously. "To smuggle me in with a linen basket? You're mad!"  
  
"No, I believe the word you are looking for is 'brilliant,' " she corrected.  
  
I cradled my head in my hands. "Tulip," I began weakly, "there is no way that will work."  
  
"How else do you plan to get in without being torn apart by murderous Brandybucks?" she demanded crossly.  
  
I let out a vague noise of exasperation and grabbed her sleeve. "Come on."  
  
At that moment, Fred poked his head into the hall. "And where are you two off to?" he inquired cheerfully.  
  
I jumped in surprise. "Ah - out," I replied hurriedly. "We're going out." I pushed Tulip toward the door.  
  
"To Brandy Hall," she called helpfully over her shoulder. I hissed at her to be quiet, but I had time only to see Fred raise his eyebrows before Tulip and I were out on the street.  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  
  
"Now what?" Tulip asked sullenly when we stood outside the main entrance of Brandy Hall.  
  
"Now you go inside and ask for Merry."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"I lurk just outside the door."  
  
Tulip fixed me with a dubious stare. "I fail to see how this achieves our goal."  
  
I sighed and explained, "You ask for Merry, he comes, you ask him to get Cel, he does. You go with Cel to put the tablecloth away, leaving Merry in the hall - where I find him when I step inside the door just as Celandine leaves."  
  
"That makes no sense whatsoever." Tulip's expression was not encouraging.  
  
"Just do it!" I ordered, and to emphasize my point, I stepped smartly up to the huge oak double doors of Brandy Hall and pushed one open. "Go ahead. I'll be right out here." And I withdrew behind the other oaken barrier, out of sight of the hallway.  
  
Tulip rolled her eyes in defeat and disappeared inside with a swish of skirts that indicated jut how little faith she had in this entire excursion. I leaned against the door that swung shut behind her and let out a long breath, only to jerk to attention when Tulip's voice drifted through the wood.  
  
"Why yes, Master Merry, I am well, thank you," she was saying. "And how very fortuitous to find you immediately, in the hall!" (I winced at this. Tulip, I thought desperately, please, PLEASE don't make this seem more contrived than it already does!) "I was wondering, however, if you might tell your cousin Celandine I'm here to return her tablecloth?"  
  
I strained to hear the reply, but Merry spoke in a low voice and I could only catch a few words. The best I could make out was something along the lines of, "Thank mumble mumble not necessary mumble you mumble mumble come mumble me mumble."  
  
The fact that I was not fluent in Mumblese was an obstacle as far as understanding this went, but Tulip's response made it clear that Merry was not conforming to my expected plan of events. "Oh, no, Merry, you needn't trouble yourself, if you'd just get Celandine I'd be indebted to you." A pause. "No, no, then I'll go myself. No, I'll find my way, you needn't show me. Just - just stay right here. In the hallway. I'll - I'll just go find Celandine then, shall I?"  
  
I groaned inwardly. Tulip had no subtlety. Merry was doubtless suspicious already, so I'd better confront him sooner rather than later. Taking a deep breath, I slowly entered the oaken doorway and came face to face with Merry.  
  
He started in surprise and backed up a few steps, shock evident in his expression. "Miss Bolger," he said stiffly. "How do you do."  
  
"Merry," I began, stepping toward him with my hands outstretched in supplication.  
  
He quickly backed away again - he was nearly in the sitting room by now - with his jaw set and his eyes unreadable. "Miss Bolger," he repeated, "you have a history of taking my words and actions the wrong way. The only way to avoid that seems to be to avoid YOU altogether."  
  
"Merry," I pleaded. My voice dropped to a whisper. "At least hear me out. Can we talk outside?"  
  
"And have you accuse me of drawing you away to attack you? I think not."  
  
"Merry," I said for the third time. "I - I'm so sorry. Nothing has come out the way I've wanted it to." My hands and eyes implored him to understand. "I made a very, very bad decision yesterday, but I want to correct it. Will you let me explain?"  
  
His face remained stern, but his frame seemed to relax slightly. He sighed. "Ten minutes."  
  
I clasped my hands together in gratitude. "Thank you," I said quietly. "But - may we talk outside?"  
  
Merry rolled his eyes, but it seemed more in exasperation than true irritation. He led the way outside to a small garden plot, separate from the main vegetable patch. Under a stately beech at its perimeter sat a crude, rickety bench, upon which Merry settled himself and regarded me impassively.  
  
I took a deep breath. "Merry," I started.  
  
"Yes," he responded dryly, "I am fully aware of my name. Thank you for reminding me fifteen times."  
  
I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I did neither; instead, I barreled on. "Be quiet. I'm trying to tell you something and if I don't get it out now, I never will, but it will eat me alive." I stared at my fingers, interlaced in my lap, as I went on. "Yesterday - I was scared yesterday. I'm not exactly the lass every lad chases after. And you - you're the next Master of Buckland. You're a war hero. You're brave, you're famous and rich..." I faltered. "You're also handsome, and you're charming, and it seemed like it couldn't be real..."  
  
I trailed off, still studying my fingers intently, afraid to look up and see Merry's reaction. To my surprise, he reached out and raised my chin so that I was forced to dart glances sideways to avoid making direct eye contact.  
  
"Estella," he said, gently but firmly. "Look at me. I want you to look me in the eye as I say this." I hesitantly brought my gaze back to his unreadable pools of deep brown. Only then did he go on. "I haven't exactly handled this perfectly either. But I want you to know this now. Whatever I've done to confuse you or give you the wrong impression was not my intention. And it's past. Now, I want to be sure you know that I would never lie to you. Ever."  
  
He must have seen the doubt in my own eyes.  
  
"Stella," he whispered. "I love you." And with that, he leaned in and kissed me; this time, I didn't shove him away.  
  
And then the shout broke the silence.  
  
"STELLA!"  
  
I nearly fell off the bench in shock and mortification. But when I snapped my head around to see who had so rudely intruded, I realized with a sinking feeling that the situation had grown still more complicated. Gone was the warmth and contentment of the previous moment, replaced by horror and a sense of impending doom. For the figure that stood at the garden's gate, his clenched fists shaking with rage and passion, was my brother. 


	10. At The Singing Lark

*GASP* I actually updated. Amazing.  
  
I am SO sorry to everyone who's been asking for an update, but the truth is I was kidnapped and held at gunpoint by the evil Sir Real Life, and I have only just escaped. I have no intention of abandoning this story! Thank you all for your patience, and you are free to throw tomatoes at me for my tardiness. So. Without further ado, I give you...chapter ten!  
  
::ducks flying tomatoes::  
  
_____________________________  
  
Merry and I both jumped to our feet as Fred stormed toward us, his eyes full of fury and betrayal.  
  
"Fred!" I cried. "Don't - it's not - "  
  
He gave no indication that he had heard, marching straight up to Merry and seizing a fistful of his shirt. He yanked Merry a step forward and, although Merry was a good six inches taller, managed to appear considerably more intimidating.  
  
"I do not ever," he murmured in a dangerously silky voice, "want to see you near me or my sister again."  
  
Alarmed by Fred's murderous expression, Merry tried to back up a pace, but my brother heaved him forward again.  
  
"Fred - " I began.  
  
"You stay out of this!" he snapped angrily, shooting a glare in my direction.  
  
Merry's brow furrowed. "Now see here, Fatty - "  
  
"Don't call me that!" Fred snarled, and gave Merry's shirt a vicious yank. Startled, Merry finally wrenched free of Fred's grasp and danced out of reach, throwing a startled, questioning glance at me; at that, Fred blew up altogether.  
  
"Don't you look at her!" he exploded. "You have no right to - " He broke off abruptly and closed the distance between Merry and himself in a few swift strides. Looking alarmed, Merry threw an arm across his face; Fred seemed to interpret this as a move of aggression and, before I could move to stop him, sent Merry reeling backwards with a blow to his face.  
  
I cried out in shock, but Merry had already recovered, wiping a trail of blood from his lower lip, and when Fred came at him again, he was ready. Quick as you please, Fred was sprawled among the cabbages, his nose already bleeding profusely.  
  
I laid a calming hand on Merry's shoulder, for he was breathing hard and obviously shaken. "It's all right," I murmured, soft enough that Fred could not hear. "Go. I'll take care of it."  
  
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I hurried to Fred's side; my brother glared at me but said nothing as I knelt beside him.  
  
"Fred," I said softly, holding out a handkerchief; he snatched it away and pressed it to his nose without a word. "What was that?"  
  
He scowled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Merry sidling along the fence in the direction of the gate, and I hurriedly turned back to my brother.  
  
"I do appreciate your loyalty," I whispered, and Fred's face softened slightly. Sensing that any attempt to explain would simply make the situation worse, I fell silent and took hold of his arm, pulling him upwards. "You should know better than to go after Merry like that," I chided gently as I helped him to his feet. "He's got six inches and thirty pounds on you."  
  
Fred's face swiftly darkened again, and he shot an icy look at Merry, who took a few hurried steps backward. "Much better than your weakling brother, I suppose," he spat. "Fredegar, who can't do anything right. Fredegar, who couldn't rescue his father. Fredegar, who didn't save the world like his friends did. Fredegar, who only managed to get himself thrown in the Lockholes when he tried to do something worthwhile for once. Fredegar, who's too fat, and Fredegar, who's too thin. Fredegar, who cannot possibly compare to brave, handsome, respectable Meriadoc Brandybuck. I understand entirely, Stella. Go. Marry him. Leave your brother behind; he's not worth your time." And he turned his back on both of us.  
  
I glanced at Merry in dismay; he looked pointedly at Fred, then back at me, and nodded slightly. I gave him a smile of gratitude, and as I approached Fred again he quietly turned to go.  
  
"Fredegar," I began, but at that moment my brother caught sight of Merry at the gate and stiffened. "That's right," he called bitterly. "Slink away, Master Brandybuck, or you'll end up with worse than a swollen lip!"  
  
"Fred!" I exclaimed in exasperation and dismay. He turned with an expression of fury on his face; I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop it!"  
  
He slapped me.  
  
I reeled in shock and pain, and took a few stumbling steps backward. Fred's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Stella," he said, "oh, Stella, I'm sorry - "  
  
"No," I said; Fred stopped in his tracks. "No. Enough. Stop."  
  
My brother reached for my sleeve. "Stella..."  
  
"Don't touch me!" I snapped, whisking my arm away and turning toward the Hall.  
  
"Stella!"  
  
I spun to face him one last time. "I do not particularly wish to speak to you at the moment," I said coldly. "I shall discuss this later."  
  
The last glimpse I had of Fred as I swept out of the garden was of his slumped figure as he sank to the bench in defeat.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
For a place so normally busy as Brandy Hall, the hole seemed eerily deserted. Merry had, apparently, vanished into thin air, and I dared stop none of the few hobbits in the halls to ask where he was, for they were all strangers. Tulip, too, seemed to have gone home, and I felt very much the intruder as I wandered the corridors alone, nervous and wary. At long last I caught sight of a familiar face, which should have been cause for relief - but it was Celandine. At the sight of me, she immediately turned heel and marched in the other direction, giving me an excellent view of her back. I ran after her.  
  
"Cel! Celandine! Wait!"  
  
She gave no indication that she had heard.  
  
"Celandine," I repeated, drawing even with her. She shifted the empty laundry basket she held and pointedly ignored my presence. Sighing, I reached out and pulled her to face me. "Cel. I know I've been stupid, but I'm on your side."  
  
She stared at me. "On my side?" she echoed incredulously. "On my side! And what in the Shire, may I ask, is *that* supposed to mean?"  
  
Sensing that this topic could go nowhere, I went on hurriedly, "Oh, never mind - I mean - "  
  
"Never mind - !"  
  
"Celandine!" I exclaimed. She shut her mouth with an audible snap. "Listen. I fully intend to marry your cousin -" her eyes widened - "but first I need you to talk some sense into my brother. I suspect you're the only one he'll listen to at the moment."  
  
Celandine looked as if she couldn't decide whether to gape, scold, or simply storm away. Instead, she managed to stammer, "Why - what's he done?"  
  
I let out a long sigh. "To make a long tale brief, he's rather jealous at the moment, I think."  
  
"Jealous?" she asked, looking confused. I fixed her with a long, deliberate stare, until suddenly her eyebrows arched upward. "Oh. Oh!"  
  
"Yes," I agreed. " 'Oh,' indeed. Will you speak with him, then? He said he's talked to you about - about Merry, and such."  
  
To my surprise, Celandine colored slightly. "Yes. Yes, a bit, now and again," she said hurriedly. "But I will try to speak with him. Where is he?"  
  
"In the west vegetable patch," I answered. "Or - he was fifteen minutes ago, at any rate."  
  
Abandoning her basket, Celandine followed me as I hurried to the small door adjoining the garden. The crumbling bench outside, however, was now empty, and there was no sign of Fred. I let out a long groan, and Celandine's shoulders slumped.  
  
"Well," she said at last, "perhaps someone's seen where he's gone off to."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A few knocked-upon doors later, we found that someone had indeed seen my brother leave. Missus Bracegirdle across the street, in fact, had seen "young Master Fredegar" heading down the road toward the middle of town. "And if you ask me," she added shrewdly, "I should think the lad looked to be in search of an ale or two, he did."  
  
Looking at Celandine in dismay, I broke into a trot for The Singing Lark, the nearest inn and a favorite of Fred's; Celandine was close behind. The Lark was only a half-mile away, but I wanted to find my brother as soon as possible. It was a well-known fact that Fred was not a heavy drinker - he indulged at feasts and the like, but rarely visited the inn save on special occasions. For him to deliberately seek out the company of ale was a bad sign; I thought, however, that our swift arrival would avert any disasters. At least I hoped so.  
  
Within a few minutes, Celandine and I were standing outside of the inn. I glanced at her expectantly; she suddenly became very interested in the painted sign that hung above us, proclaiming in loud, gaudy letters, "The Singing Lark" and below that, "Finest Ale in Buckland" (which was, of course, a blatant lie, but no one seemed to mind it much). I cleared my throat.  
  
"I should think I'm the last person he needs to see at the moment," I began hesitantly, "so I'll just slip into a corner if you like. All he needs is someone to settle him down a bit."  
  
Celandine appeared to be having second thoughts: her brow furrowed and she looked troubled. I was about to remark on this when she abruptly nodded resolutely, threw a determined glance my way, and marched into the Lark. I slipped inside behind her, rather furtively, and quickly seated myself in a dim, inconspicuous corner of the main hall. No one appeared to notice our entrance, for the Lark, despite *not* having The Finest Ale in Buckland, was quite popular and was now filled with hobbits of all ages, their tongues loosened by ale and their cares shrouded in pipe-smoke.  
  
Celandine quickly spotted Fred, who was sitting alone at one end of a long table with a mug cradled in his hands and an assortment of various other drinking vessels arranged on the table before him.  
  
"Oh, no," I breathed from my discreet corner. "How much could he have had in half an hour?"  
  
I watched anxiously as Celandine sat down next to him; he looked up, startled, and said something to her. Though I could not hear their conversation, I could see well enough, and it soon became clear that Fred had consumed far more ale than he was used to. Celandine was obviously trying to make the best of a poor situation, but she was finding it difficult to converse with a drunken hobbit who was not in the mood to cooperate. Fred, for his part, was busy gesturing haphazardly, scattering empty mugs every which way, and even the clamor of the room could not drown out his voice entirely. I could not make out his words, but I could see Celandine's brows drawing closer and closer together.  
  
I was about to give up and wade in to drag Celandine away, and was indeed inching my way toward the table where she and Fred sat, when she suddenly screwed up her face in a look of unexpected resolve. As Fred concentrated on tracing the outline of the table's wood grain, peering owlishly at it from several inches away, Celandine took hold of him by the shoulders and turned him to face her.  
  
I could hear him hiccup in surprise from my new seat, three tables away. From there, I could pick up their conversation with only a little difficulty, and was able to hear Celandine as she spoke.  
  
"Fred," she was saving earnestly, "why are you doing this to yourself?"  
  
He gave her a sullen look. "Dono why you should care."  
  
And then Celandine reached out and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. "Of course I care," she said, so quietly that I had to strain to hear her. "What do you take me for?"  
  
My brother blinked at her several times before pulling away roughly. "What d'you mean?"  
  
Celandine shook her head in exasperation. "Honestly," she sighed, but her tone was gentle. "You just won't listen, will you? Come on, you've had enough." She pulled at his arm as if to stand up.  
  
Fred let out a surprisingly harsh bark of laughter. Grabbing hold of Celandine's sleeve, he leaned in close - I edged forward to hear - and said clearly, without a trace of a slur, "No, thank you. I'm quite happy where I am."  
  
"No, you're not," Celandine returned, a curious catch in her throat. "No, you're not."  
  
This seemed to be the final straw; I was startled to see Fred's eyes glisten wetly for an instant, and then he had slumped over the table, his head in his arms. I jumped to my feet and had cut the difference between us in half before I even realized what I was doing and sat down again - this time at the closest table, facing his and Celandine's backs. I perched nervously on the bench, hoping fervently that Celandine would be able to calm him and get him out of the Lark as soon as possible.  
  
If Celandine was aware that I was sitting directly behind her, barely four feet away, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she put a comforting arm around Fred's shoulders and, bending down, whispered something in his ear. He slowly lifted his head, his face flushed with ale and emotion, and stared blearily at Celandine for a long moment.  
  
"Silly lad," said Celandine softly, but there was no mockery in her voice.  
  
Then Fred spoke, so quietly I was barely able to understand him. "Why won't you simply leave me alone?"  
  
Celandine silenced him with a finger to his lips, and then suddenly leaned forward to follow it with a gentle kiss.  
  
I was shocked by this unexpected turn of events. I was even more shocked when Fred wrapped his arms around Celandine and kissed her right back. For a few stunned seconds I could only stare, mute and unmoving; those few seconds were all it took for the nearest cluster of hobbits to notice the two and erupt into appreciative cheers. At the sound, Fred drew back hurriedly, coughed, and muttered something to Celandine that was lost in the din; both were blushing furiously and looked distinctly shaken. The cheering, however, continued - several hobbits even clapped Fred on the back in a congratulatory manner and complimented him on his taste. This did nothing to ease my brother's embarrassment, needless to say, and I finally decided to take pity on the two of them.  
  
Ignoring the renewed laughter as I drew near ("Ah, here's a jealous one!" "Wonder if we'll 'ave a fight?"), I laid a hand on the shoulder of each and bent down to whisper, "I think we've had enough entertainment, don't you?"  
  
Fred stared up at me in abject terror, apparently under the impression that I was still angry. Celandine, who seemed to have forgotten my presence until that moment, flushed crimson again and hurriedly jumped to her feet, nearly overturning the table as she did so.  
  
"Come on, Fred," I prodded. "Let's go. I'm not upset with you."  
  
The three of us somehow managed to escape the smoky cacophony, though not without a few parting comments and more than one final "Hurrah for comely lasses!" thrown at us before we reached the door. Once in the street, however, the drop in noise was striking, and only added to the awkwardness of the silence that stretched out between the three of us.  
  
At last I turned to Celandine, and immediately all of us began to talk at once.  
  
"What was - "  
  
"Stella, I - "  
  
"Don't think - "  
  
As inevitably happens in such situations, we then all fell silent again, eyeing each other warily and daring someone to speak. I looked from Celandine to Fred and back again.  
  
"Well," I said finally. "All I can say is: I am so very glad you two have kept me up to date on everything."  
  
A swift glance passed between the two, and from their faces I instantly realized the full extent of the situation. "Oh," I said suddenly. "Oh." Celandine and Fred remained mute, with rather glassy stares and stricken expressions; I took a hesitant step to the side. "I think - I think I'll just leave you two alone, then..."  
  
Celandine nodded vaguely. Fred frowned and looked as if he were about to say something, but I went on hurriedly, "So - good day to you both, I suppose," and fled back inside the Lark before either Celandine or my brother had time to react.  
  
I knew they would not follow me. Not after what had just happened. Avoiding the Lark's smoky depths, I instead crept to one of the grimy windows and peered out, but was dismayed to find that the glass was so crusted with filth that I could just barely make out the two figures standing outside. Grimacing, I pulled a corner of my sleeve over the heel of my hand and gingerly rubbed at the windowpane until I could see out clearly; neither Celandine nor my brother appeared to have moved.  
  
As I watched, however, Celandine said something; I could not hear, but I could see her mouth move. Fred nodded vaguely, and then Celandine seemed to be edging away. And then, abruptly, she turned and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before whirling around and disappearing down the road.  
  
Fred stood, still motionless, where she had left him. Even from my post on the other side of a dusty inn window, I could see the grin that slowly spread across his face; and, watching him, I could not help but smile as well. Celandine had done, somehow, what I could not: she'd made him happy. And I was glad for him.  
  
Things were finally beginning to go Fred's way.  
  
_____________________ 


End file.
